


C'est du Gâteau

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fantasy, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: Working in a haunted house, Marinette's main problem comes in the form of her co-worker's awkward pick-up lines, strange fixation with her, and his lack of appetite. AU.





	1. 01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems to be a theme that my one-shots get too long and turn into two-shots. The next chapter will include more romance (and deserve the higher rating), I promise.
> 
> \- ̗̀art ̖́- [aoirin](http://aoirin.tumblr.com/post/173994145701), [flutter](http://artisticflutter.tumblr.com/post/163183488241).

  _Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

“It'll be fine,” Marinette reassured herself, looking at the hotel in front of her. “I've already been paid, so even if they tell me to leave, I'm not broke.”

Fresh out of university, finding a job had been hard. Marinette had lived with her parents originally for a few months, fiddling with the clothes she was making and updating a blog that had gained quite a following through the years. Eventually, her achievements and the popularity she'd acquired played in her favour; a local amusement park that was opening soon, planning to be all-year-round rather than just in the summer, had contacted her in hopes that she'd design fresh costumes for their employees that needed to dress up, and wanted her keen eye and creativity that had been shown in her own work. Naturally, she accepted the brilliant opportunity, and after speaking to the higher-ups and having her designs confirmed, she stitched them with dedication in her bedroom. She was paid handsomely per finished design and the money added up well.

After finishing the job, she scooped up the following offer for working for the amusement park, too. When a costume needed repairing they were going to pay her individually per, and she had a choice of different stations around the park to choose from. There was still a few weeks to decide, so she used her saved money to move into a quaint—but small—apartment nearby her upcoming job, and still close to her childhood home. Her university had been a good few hours away, and her parents were rejoicing openly about how happy they were that their daughter was staying local. She didn't bother much to decorate her home, only placing bright-coloured blankets on the furniture or adding pretty coasters and other such trinkets that weren't necessary, just so it would feel slightly homely.

A week before the grand-opening of the amusement park, Marinette was invited to a party that was being thrown for all of the confirmed employees that they currently had. She was handed a silly name-tag that stated her first name and her title (costume designer and blank, as she was undecided), and was told to mingle and enjoy herself. The location was a local hotel's bar, that included free beverages as long as they had their name-tags on for proof.

She smoothed out the material of her pastel blue-coloured dress to make sure she looked appropriate.

It was her first job that wouldn't be in the presence of her parents—she _wanted_ to work with these people, and therefore her first impression needed to be better than her stuttering over her words and awkwardly attempting to bond with others. As long as she didn't consume too much alcohol, she doubted she'd blurt out their clothing sizes without any prompting.

She trailed in one direction for a quick check in the fancy-looking bathroom's mirror that her hair wasn't in a disarray and found that, thankfully, the ebony tresses were still neatly curled above her breasts, with a few wisps pushed aside as bangs that framed her hooded cerulean-coloured eyes. With the reassurance that she looked presentable, Marinette cautiously made her way

There was a middle-aged man with broad shoulders by the bar, who she assumed to be one of the managers from not remembering making a costume to those sort of proportions. She recognised the princesses that would be walking around at times, not quite able to tell them apart, and one who'd be working as a pirate (she'd been informed about their hearing aids beforehand). Sipping on a non-alcoholic beverage, Marinette amused herself by trying to guess each individual's job when she spied a name-tag, and the possibilities were vast by the time the bar had become crowded.

“Are you prowling for the evening?”

The sudden voice made her jump.

Marinette whipped her head around, scarlet rushing to her cheeks and portraying her embarrassment at having been caught staring. The newcomer an amused smile across his lips, indents on his cheeks showing that his emotions weren't faked, and golden-coloured hair that brushed against the tips of his ears. If it wasn't for the fact he was the only one beside her, she wouldn't have connected the insinuating words to him.

“N-no.” She coughed into her hand, clearing her throat nervously. “I—I was trying to figure out everyone's positions.”

“Well, that's no fun,” he replied playfully, wide grin reaching his emerald eyes. With a dramatic bow, that certainly didn't match his jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt, he gently took hold of her hand and hovered his lips by her knuckles. “Adrien Agreste, vampire, at your service.” His eyes flickered up to her through golden-tinged eyelashes, and he winked as his lips made contract to chastely kiss her hand.

 _He—_ Marinette flushed, withdrawing her hand and clutching it to her chest as though she'd been burned. She had wanted to meet her co-workers—but not to be asked if she was prowling for a one-night stand and then thoroughly embarrassed. Her expression must have been a mixture of incredulous and shy because he made a noise of amusement as he stepped back, allowing her space one more as he settled down on a stool.

Shaking head head, Marinette gathered her wits. “Marinette,” she offered, eyes flickering down to her own name-tag. “I haven't decided my section yet.”

He hummed in understanding. Although it didn't state vampire specifically, his name-tag did mention his first name along with haunted house. She _had_ made a black cloak that could be worn as a cape if wanted, with a red-coloured lining that was soft and nice to touch.

“I'd suggest the haunted house,” Adrien said, raising a hand to catch the bartender's attention. The sudden flirtation had disappeared, his appearance innocent once more. “I'm sure we could have a lot of fun between us.”

Goodness, he had no shame. “I'll think about it,” the dark-haired female replied coolly, unsure of how to take his attitude. It wasn't unwelcome, or considered creepy—just surprising. Marinette had prepared for the evening by imagining brief conversations with her to-be-co-workers, not shifting from embarrassment from an attractive male flirting with her.

“It'll be a pleasure to have you there,” the blond commented, a lopsided smile playing across his lips. “With us two, I'm sure we could shock the guests with something other than our blood-stained clothing.”

And with that said, he walked away.

Marinette watched his retreating form, utterly baffled, before she shook her head and promptly told herself to forget about it. He was friendly, yes, but it was probably from consuming one too many drinks as the night had gone on—it was still early, though, so there was a chance they would bump into each other once more, where he'd be uttering sweet words into someone else's ears.

As the evening progressed, Marinette had greeted most that she would be working with. The friendliest of the bunch turned out to be Alya, a curvy red-head who would be hopping between game stalls during the day. Alya had moved from her home-town a few hours away for the job opportunity, saying that her family had been driving her nuts recently, so she wanted to prove that she could make it on her own, or, rather; with her boyfriend that had moved in with her.

Their cheeks were coloured from the alcohol by the time they decided to leave. It was past midnight—though the hotel had employees walking around during all hours, to make sure the guests were okay—and the breeze outside was cold, refreshing, and wonderful as they walked together. Their arms were linked together, more for the stability than the sign of sudden friendship, and the noise of their laughter subdued the clicking of their heels.

“You _have_ to meet Nino,” Alya announced as she pushed the wide-rimmed spectacles up to the bridge of her nose. “We could have dinner sometime—he'd be head-over-heels that you two have the same music taste.”

She raised her eyebrows, smiling. “And that's enough to warrant a friendship with him?”

“Are you kidding?” The red-head snorted loudly, almost stumbling as they turned a corner. “His friends are into completely different genres. I have to take the brunt of it and listen to him rave about new songs since no one else cares.”

“You're a good girlfriend,” Marinette replied cheekily.

Alya raised her nose in the air haughtily. “Damn right. We haven't been together for five years for nothing.”

As it turned out, they lived in the same cheap apartment building. It wasn't a luxurious place to live—there were a lot of rowdy passers-by in the evening—but it suited their needs fine. They kept in contact during the week before they started work, the dark-haired female wandering around to their floor and spending evenings with the sweet couple. Nino was a sweetheart with tanned skin a few shades darker than Alya's, a head of black curls that were cut short, and thick spectacles much like his girlfriend's. He was working as a local radio host, hoping to become more popular and not have to broadcast at ridiculous hours, so Alya spent her time without him either alone, or bonding with Marinette.

The job positions that were left had dwindled done. The chefs had been taken, along with the remaining stalls slots, so the remaining ones were between dressing up guests and taking pictures of them, cleaning up the park, or, to her embarrassment, working in the haunted house. She chose the latter in the end, knowing that it would be the most fun for her there (and that it had downtime, unlike the other positions).

The higher-ups approved of her being a ghost; she knew it was open as the other costumes she'd made hadn't included it. Her pale skin would work in her favour, along with black-coloured hair that she'd inherited from her mother. As long as she wore a white dress that wasn't tight and allowed some of her hair to cover her face, they were fine. She stitched a dress that came to her knees, purposely ragged at the bottom with some parts greyer than the rest, and made the sleeves long in length, just to her wrist, and flair out for dramatic purposes.

It was like she was dressing up for a party—except it was her job to scare the wits out of guests.

The day before the park opened, all the employees had been called in to make sure everything was in order. Her first thoughts of the haunted house was that it looked hilarious; with tombstones covered in cobwebs that bobbed in the wind on the outside, the warning signs that were messily scrawled on with paint, and blood-stained bricks on the building that were darkened from the rain. The inside was just as cliché with skeletons hanging from the ceiling, a particularly creepy life-sized doll around one corner, and a room filled with mirrors. There would be fog billowing inside when the house was active, setting the atmosphere, along with soft background music that added to the eerie feeling.

When she met Adrien again, he was clad in a white button-up shirt that was tucked into a pair of black slacks—and if he was only wear those, he would've looked smart—completed by the silky-looking cape that was tied with a strong ribbon around his neck. The scarlet of the inside of the cloak was startling and stood out against the rest of his outfit.

He was busy musing the blond strands of his hair in the mirror and therefore hadn't noticed her arrival.

Marinette wetted her lips.

“...Adrien?” she called quietly.

If she hadn't been looking at him, she wouldn't have noticed his reaction. The blond paused mid-action for a moment, frozen as his hand was touching the tresses of his hair, before tilting his head and looking at her from the corner of his eyes. The smirk that appeared across his reddened lips was the main attraction upon his face, and she found herself staring for longer than necessary.

“Marinette,” he replied slowly, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

Unsure of how to reply, her grip on the bag on her shoulder tightened. “I-I'm ready—I'm _going_ to get ready,” she stuttered through her words, heat rising to adorn her cheeks instantly. It was a natural reaction from embarrassment, but the fact that he _remembered_ her from their brief meeting had her shy and uncertain of how to react.

Their break-room had a meeting room with a section to have free coffee from a machine, private toilets, a seating area to converse, lockers to keep their belongings, along with multiple changing rooms complete with mirrors to make sure their outfits were correct. It was located behind the haunted house, required a passcode into a machine to get past, so it was fine for them to arrive—and leave—work in everyday clothing.

Marinette fiddled with the dress in the mirror, already considering the multiple ones that she could make. The higher-ups were fine with fake blood (they specified _fake_ to make sure), and make-up wounds as long as they didn't go too overboard since there would be young children visiting. So, with the ideas of making a bloody dress, she began to muse and ruffle her hair, making it so the collarbone-length strands were uneven and rumpled, giving her the appearance she desired.

Her lips were lightened with make-up, making them blend with the rest of her pale skin, and had black smudged underneath her eyes to make it appear as though she hadn't slept. It was an odd appearance, one that she hadn't quite thought she'd ever wear past the age of ten, yet there was she, preparing for her first day of work wearing it.

The amusement park was opening in half an hour.

Their co-workers had arrived, too. A tall girl with black-coloured hair that fell to her waist introduced herself as Juleka, and when she emerged from the dressing-room, the shy-looking appearance was once more. Her clothes were purposely tattered, fake blood splattered across the fabrics, and her hair was safely tucked away within a blonde-haired wig that was filled with tangles and blood, too. She tentatively explained that she was supposed to be a zombie, and told that she only had to grunt and walk slowly throughout the haunted house.

Mireille, a female that was only just taller than her, had enveloped Marinette into a hug on the spot and profusely thanked her for the wonderful outfit. As it turned out, the curvaceous newcomer was revealed to be the witch she'd designed for—instead of going with the traditional over-sized tunic that swamped her figure, the robe instead ended an inch above her ankle, allowing the shoes to be seen, and was pinched in at the waist. There was no cleavage on display, and the sleeves billowed much like Marinette's own, but it was the generic witch's hat that brought the outfit together; there was a ribbon wrapped around it that matched the handle of her broom that she'd be carrying around.

There were two more that she'd designed for—a skeleton and werewolf—but they were not scheduled to work the same days that she was assigned, so there was only a chance of bumping into them. Three of them would work together to direct, and scare, the guests throughout the haunted house, while one was selected to pass out sweets to passers-by and attempt to lure them into their section.

There was an unknown perk to the guests. The guests that entered their sections would be counted, and each half of the year there would be a winner for the most guests selected, meaning the staff for that ride—be it operating or actually involved with interacting with the guests—would receive a bonus.

Her nerves decreased after she'd encountered the first guest in the darkened hallway. The teenager had taken one look at her before shrieking, speeding away in the direction they were supposed to go.

“Oh,” Marinette said, blinking in surprise that it was so easy. She'd jumped as well, a silent scream trapped within her mouth, and she wondered whether it would continue throughout her time there. If she was going to be continuously scared by the guests, then maybe it wasn't the right job for her.

The trick turned out to be listening to footsteps and the murmurs of their conversations. As she prowled through the well-ordered rooms, narrowing avoiding tripping over the creepy life-sized doll, the job had slowly become more fun. She still jumped sometimes when she wasn't expecting it, but most of the times she stayed lurking in a corner where guests were soon to turn, trying to contain her laughter when the children screamed and the parents shook their heads fondly. There was no inappropriate touching—that would've been crossing a line—so the most she did was clear her throat to draw attention to herself at times.

Then a new occurrence began during their shifts.

The first time she bumped into Adrien, it had been literally. She'd been searching through the rooms for a new spot for the incoming guests, musing her hair along the way. When she turned a corner, she'd collided with a hard body and it caused a chain-reaction of stumbling, a shocked gasp escaping her lightened lips, before she'd grasped onto the material of his shirt to attempt to stay upright.

There was a ripping sound, indicating that she'd torn the outfit.

“I-I'm so sorry,” she stuttered, blood rushing to her cheeks immediately. Her grip loosened on his clothing, realising the situation with mortification. The tangled hair upon her hair was brushing against his chin from their closeness and height difference. “I didn't know you'd be here.”

And it was true. Although there were only three of them inside the haunted house at any given time, usually they didn't run across each other, preferring to stay to their areas and not venture further in.

“It's not a problem,” Adrien replied, voice soft and low.

Taking a step back, allowing some space between their bodies in the darkened room, her gaze flickered up to his. Adrien worked almost the same hours as she did, with the exception of Friday, so they had _seen_ a lot of each other. Usually the blond wandered off to eat lunch by himself, and left without conversing with the others when the park was closing. They had been working together for two weeks, cycling through who was selected to attract guests every two days. The make-shift system worked well due to Marinette's schedule of working four days a week.

It was the closest she'd seen him since they'd began working.

His hands—which didn't have gloves on, as he should've—cupped hers in a comforting gesture. “I'm not going to complain about the creative greeting.”

She blinked.

The smile across his reddened lips, which appeared to be the only make-up he'd used, showed his dimples and the tops of his cheeks contorted his eyes, showing that he was sincere. It was a strange meeting, no doubt, and the fact that they'd barely conversed since their first day made the situation even more bewildering.

So when he lifted one of her grasped hands and placed his lips against them in a chaste kiss once more, she stiffened in surprise.

And with that, he squeezed her hands once before letting go.

“I'll be with the mirrors,” the male informed her, a lopsided smile tugging upon his lips. “Try not to fall into me too often, okay?”

Their interactions were brief after that. Even when they bumped into each other inside their break-room, Adrien averted his eyes and kept to himself. It was perplexing to see—he'd been so open, even flirtatious when they'd been together, and yet when it wasn't on his terms, if he didn't approach first, then there wouldn't be any interact at all. The blond merely nodded when co-workers attempted to talk to him, even going as far to politely smile and excuse himself with a soft mumble. It wasn't the picture that she'd conjured of the confident male she'd met previously, not at all.

One Friday, when Adrien was absent for his day off, Marinette caught idle chatter from other co-workers in the park during lunch. She'd quickly wiped the make-up off her lips, hoped that the smudges beneath her eyes passed as lack of sleep, and tied her tangled hair into a ponytail before venturing through the pair in casual wear to get fresh air. The previous times she'd attempted to take a breather outside in her uniform hadn't gone well, especially when children had flocked to her to ask what was wrong and whether they could take pictures.

They were questioning whether Adrien was a recluse, if it was his first job and he was uncertain on how to interact with others. It was baffling to hear, especially when they murmured that he _had_ gained quite a reputation, especially when he was the one attracting guests to the haunted house—apparently, a visitor had posted a picture of the blond on a website and gained attention to his good looks. A few of the ticket-sellers at the front had been questioned whether the vampire would be working on some days, and a guest had even denied buying a ticket and said they'd be back when he was working.

It was a whole week until she bumped into him again, and it happened when she'd walked into the haunted house from the back entrance. After pressing the right buttons to allow access, she'd walked through into the darkened room, startled when her shoulder brushed against something hard.

A gasp escaped as she stumbled forward, hands positioned in front to brace her fall. There was a flash of panic before arms were curled around her waist, keeping her upright and unfortunately pressed against him in the process—for it had to be Adrien, as their other two co-workers had ample bosoms.

“Falling for me again, Marinette?” he asked with a laugh. Their close distance meant she could feel his chest vibrate with the noise, and she realised that she was standing upright with his arms around her still.

There were cameras inside, for goodness sake—what if the security guard questioned them? Although it wasn't forbidden for employees to have relationships, it was severely frowned upon, and unprofessional, for them to act on them within their working time.

“I—” Marinette swallowed, the sound louder than necessary. Making sure to distribute her weight to stand by herself, she awkwardly gathered his arms so they were no longer wrapped around her. “I didn't know you'd be here.”

Raising his eyebrows, Adrien pointed out, “That's what you said last time, too.” And if that wasn't embarrassing enough, he continued to say with a wide grin, “You don't have to resort to violence to get my attention.”

This was _not_ the male that avoided their co-workers, walking away to spend time by himself during their breaks. The male before her was utterly baffling and she couldn't quite understand his motives behind it all—he'd already gained the reputation as being the aloof, hard to approach employee.

“I could report you for harassment,” the dark-haired female blurted, aware of how absurd she sounded.

Instead of being offended, he looked amused more than anything. “Sure,” Adrien said easily, raising a hand and ruffling her already mused hair. “If that would make you happy.”

He didn't kiss her hand before he disappeared that time.

They would bump into each other occasionally—not on an everyday basis—and each time she was inwardly infuriated that she became a mess of nerves and embarrassment, constantly stuttering and unsure of how to stand properly with him. Mireille had spied them interacting within the haunted house one afternoon and cornered her once their shifts were finished, demanding to know the details of their relationship. When Marinette tentatively explained that there was no sort of relationship between them, not even friendship, her co-worker had laughed and called her absurd for even thinking that.

By the fourth time they'd collided, without her falling over that time, Marinette was becoming suspicious of his motives. Adrien hadn't reached out to stop her from falling since she'd mentioned the harassment (meaning, the third time she'd slipped and ended up dirtying her dress more than usual), and he did nothing more than make eye contact with his infuriating smile that reached his eyes, and then walk away once it was clear that there was nothing wrong with her.

There weren't many conversation between them, not at all. The limited interactions they'd had after two months of working together had been the awkward flirty comments at the beginning.

Marinette had dressed in her casual clothes for her lunch break, having promised to meet Alya across the park to eat together. Apparently, the others that worked at the gaming stalls weren't very good company. Even though the two females saw each other often in their crappy apartment complex, it was still nice to spend lunches together, and occasionally walk home when Marinette finished late (and therefore ended the same time as the red-head).

“Alya!” she called, stretching a hand up high and waving to catch her bespectacled friend's attention. “Over here!”

“Oh, there you are,” Alya replied, visibly relieved. She directed the two of them to a nearby bench, offering Marinette a to-go cup of coffee that tasted splendidly better than the free machine in her break-room—the food areas were closer to Alya's station. “I thought you forget about me there for a bit.”

She snorted, holding the cup tightly for warmth. “As if I could ever do that. You'd bang on my door until it broke to get my attention.”

“Why, you sound ungrateful for my friendship.” It was the combination of her haughty expression and the steam from the coffee fogging up her wide-rim spectacles that caused Marinette to laugh aloud, the noise attracting attention their way. “I waited in line to get us these coffees; you should show me some respect.”

An innocent smile appeared across her whitened lips. “You're my hero, babe.”

Since getting to know Alya and her boyfriend, she noticed a tend that whenever Nino called Alya babe whenever he was sarcastic or half paying attention, the red-head would stubbornly cross her arms and refuse to talk to him until he apologised for the half-hearted name. It was silly, really—when he affectionately called her babe when Marinette was walking from the room or back in, there was no doubt that she liked the name.

“ _No_!” Alya cried, eyes narrowing into slits and hiding their brown colour. “Just you want until you get a boyfriend—I'll be right there, mocking every single name.”

“That's not very nice,” she replied, a smirk tugging on the corner of her lips. “Perhaps I'll just never introduce you...”

Alya kept her eyes narrowed, not blinking, before making a noise of disapproval.

Then in a move that was almost too fast to see or comprehend, the red-head was attempting to take the coffee back from her cold hands, causing Marinette to shriek, “I take it _back_!”

“That's what I thought.” The tanned female sniffed. “Now I'll move onto what I actually wanted to talk to you about.”

There was silence between them as Marinette looked at her expectantly, and Alya simply remained silent, raising her drink up to take a sip that lasted longer than necessary. The dark-haired female scowled when she realised her friend was drawing it out for no good reason; she just wanted her full attention, and perhaps for Marinette to groan aloud and demand to know already.

It took almost a minute of silence and awkward staring until Alya gave up. “You're no fun,” she grumbled, shooting her a dirty look. “I went looking for you yesterday, not realising that you don't work on Mondays.”

She blinked. “Good story so far.”

“Shut up.” Alya stuck her tongue out in a childish action.

“It's not like we've been working together for two months, not at all.”

Her friend glared once more. “Shut your yap before I post embarrassing pictures of you on our apartment complex's noticeboard.”

At that, she cheekily thinned her lips out into a line, trying not to let her amusement leak through too much.

“Well, I met a pretty burly werewolf, but that's not really what I wanted to talk about either. His muscles were pretty impressive, though.” They shared a laugh at that. “I bumped into a handsome vampire who seems to think you hate him.”

Oh. “...I-I don't _hate_ him—” It wasn't as if she liked him, though. If anyone else had made those remarks, she would've disliked it profusely. “Why would he tell you anyway?”

“I was asking for you, and he politely told me that you weren't working,” Alya explained, waving a hand along with her words to show that she was interested in the topic. “He seems _nice_ , so why haven't I heard about him before?”

Because she wanted to avoid the topic avidly. “You probably have,” Marinette murmured, taking a sip of her drink to avoid answering immediately. “He's the one that someone posted pictures of online, remember? I mentioned it before, but I think you were a bit tipsy.”

“ _Oh_!” the red-head exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise. “The guy that Nino wouldn't let me look at?”

Well, she couldn't argue that. “...He was drunk and protective, but yes.”

And with that, they continued to chat until their breaks were over, and they were needed back at work. Marinette kept a wary eye on Adrien when they'd spotted each other in the break-room, but all he did was smile softly before continuing on his way.

At least he wasn't kissing her hand any more. The first time could've been passed off as the atmosphere in the bar, but after that was a whole different matter. It _was_ an unwanted advance, and he'd only laughed off the harassment threat—that was half-hearted—and avoided contact after that.

It wasn't how someone made friends, not at all. With Adrien, though, it seemed like he didn't have friends during the day. Their co-workers awkwardly spoke to him at times, only getting a few one-word responses before giving up, and the gossip around the park had picked up once more. One of the princesses had asked him out by the three month mark, only to be rejected stiffly, and he continued to attract guests to the park (more specifically to their section).

When he nodded his head in greeting one evening when they'd finished their shifts, something in her snapped. With a deep breath, Marinette kept her grip on her water bottle to avoid nervously palming her clothing.

“Adrien?” she called, voice higher-pitched then usual, though she was thankful she didn't stutter instead.

He'd just came out of the dressing-room in a t-shirt and dark-washed jeans, heading towards the exit and intending to go home. Rather than ignoring the call—much like he did if Mireille had been the one to request his presence—he stiffened and froze for a moment. It was quick, almost too fast to notice before his muscles relaxed once more, but she noticed it.

She wetted her lips.

The surprised reaction was much the same as he'd had a few months ago. Adrien turned on the spot, hovering by the doorway with a conflicted expression on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, inquisitively, before they smoothed out.

The smile didn't reach his eyes. It was polite, somewhat forced, and hadn't been directed at her before.

“Can we... I—can we talk?” Marinette winced, mortified that the stuttering was back. There was just—there was _something_ about him that caused her to be nervous and uncertain constantly. Whether it was his attractive appearance or the confusing behaviour, she wasn't sure.

“Talk?” Adrien repeated, emerald eyes looking up to meet hers.

She nodded, unsure how to respond.

She'd never considered herself a shallow being. Marinette's past attractions had been for their personalities and sense of humours rather than their looks; once she was a teenager, she was certain that the child Marinette had been a shallow little girl that idolised good looking celebrities. It was the same with most children, however, and she'd grown out of it by the time she'd had her first boyfriend.

There was something disarming about the male before her. He was tall so she came up to his chin—though he wasn't as large as the rumoured werewolf—with a beauty about him that wasn't common. Perhaps it was the combination of blond hair, lashes that were stained at the ends, and the eyebrows that were only just darker than the strands upon his head. And even the dimples gave him a boyish charm that made him more approachable.

Yet, even with all those endearing qualities combined, there wasn't anything to add on. His beauty was a part of him, but not _all—_ she didn't know what dumb jokes he would tell, which food he preferred, or even what music he liked to listen to. She knew next to nothing about him other than that he was astoundingly attractive; enough so that guests would visit the park just to catch a glimpse of him during his work hours.

But how would that make him feel? Did he feel like he was being used for his body, for his good looks?

She didn't hate him. There was not enough known about him to _hate._ Childish jealousy could persuade her to despise him for his good looks, but that tiny tinge of jealousy was smothered by the overall concern that she felt.

It wasn't normal to be treated like that.

“I—” Marinette cut herself off, clearing her throat with a grimace. It wasn't normal for her heart to be beating faster than usual just from the thought of talking to him either. Many thoughts of how to approach him were running through her mind, but all that came out softly was, “I don't know you.”

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

Right. She wasn't being clear. “I-I know your name,” she assured him quickly, blood rushing to her cheeks at just how dumb she was coming across. Of course she knew his name—she'd said it not even a minute ago! “I know that you work here but... I don't know _you_.”

There was a smudge of red on his lips still.

“Therefore... I don't hate you, Adrien.” She wetted her lips, hands gripping the bottle tighter. “How could I?”

“Oh.” His voice was low, soft, and barely audible.

Shifting her weight upon her feet, Marinette's cerulean eyes flickered between the neutral line of his lips and the furrowed eyebrows in uncertainty. “I know this is sudden, I'm sorry.”

“No, don't be,” the blond reassured her, taking a step in her direction. “This is very unexpected, but I can't say that I'm disappointed.” And with that said, a blinding smile appeared on his face, lightening his previously neutral expression and showing the dimples that she'd admired previously.

Her cheeks warmed from the thought. It wasn't right to ogle him—he deserved better.

“Would you like to get coffee together?” Adrien questioned. “It would give us some privacy to talk.”

Eyes flickering to the changing rooms, she remembered that Juleka was still undressing and undoubtedly listening to their conversation. “I-I'm fine with this,” the dark-haired female stuttered, raising her bottle to eye-level to convey her meaning.

A hum of understanding escaped him. Adrien nodded his head, the corners of his bright eyes contorted due to his wide smile. “If you like water, then you already like a large percent of me.”

Any feeling of concern for his well-being from being constantly ogled at at work was shattered with that sentence. Marinette's hand clenched around the bottle, the plastic crinkling loudly in protest, and she couldn't restrain the frown from appearing across her lips. He— _he_ was insufferable! It had been weeks since they'd spoken and she'd perhaps, _maybe_ , thought that he'd grown out of the flirtatious comments that had her on edge. It wasn't right to treat her how most did to him.

“Stop that!” she retorted, grimacing. “Why can't you talk to me like a normal human being? Have I done something to _offend_ you?”

An odd expression flickered across his face before it was gone, confusion dominating his features.

Her eyes felt hot as she took in his reaction, throat thickening and feeling uncomfortable as the seconds passed by, and to her utter mortification she could feel tears welling before long. Her lower lip trembled from her restrained anger, bottle still held far too tightly.

“Is it fun to see how uncomfortable you can make me?” Marinette continued, blinking rapidly to attempt to contain her overflowing emotions. “I—I just wanted to be your, well, friend.”

“Marinette...” Adrien started, taking a step in her direction.

On instinct, she backed away, adamant that it wasn't wholly her fault when his features betrayed his hurt. “Please, just don't,” she whispered, making sure her bag was on right before looking up to meet his eyes once more. “You're... I don't appreciate your advances.”

He grimaced but made no move to reply.

It was clear that their conversation was over by his pained expression, and her anger was overflowing and intertwining with embarrassment and self-righteousness. She'd never asked to be treated like that, and he certainly didn't talk to every female that way. There would've been awful rumours if he had, not the ones that he was an awkward adult that wasn't good at communicating.

“If you want to be friends, treat me like your equal,” Marinette murmured as she walked past, not looking over her shoulder to see his reaction.

Later that night, she complained avidly to Alya over a bottle of wine.

-x-

After the confrontation—which is what Alya had dubbed it as—Adrien froze up when they crossed paths. It made working quite awkward, especially when Mireille had been informed about their quarrel. Juleka was a kind-hearted girl that kept to herself, but the two were good friends, so they shared the information with each other. There had been a few attempts on Mireille's part to attempt to have Marinette and Adrien make up, involving saying someone had dropped their belongings in specific sections and asking if she could go collect them, only to walk into the blond on her way through.

She started to notice things about him, though. When he was thinking hard, he'd gnaw on the corner of his bottom lip absently. If he was feeling self-conscious or embarrassed, especially after being told how handsome he was by a guest—that had squealed in excitement rather than fear as he was working—he'd fiddle with hairs on the nape of his neck and avert his eyes. Sometimes, she caught him holding his elbow, too, but it was predominantly his neck that he touched when he was shy.

He rejected the male with the hearing aids who worked a pirate, politely telling him that he didn't have any feelings of attractions to his own gender. A few guests had asked Adrien out on dates, too, which had caused him to shuffle awkwardly and attempt to herd them outside.

On the days where he walked the park and attempted to lure guests to their section, he didn't eat lunch. When she wandered outside for fresh air to eat her packed food on a nearby bench, he was still walking the park and approaching guests with a polite smile. Then again, she wasn't certain that she'd ever seen him eat at the amusement park. Perhaps he was on a strict diet and preferred to eat breakfast and only dinner, or he was self-conscious about his eating habits in front of others. Whichever it was, it explained his lean physique that she happened a glance at one afternoon. A guest—who turned out to be intoxicated and was eventually removed by security—had ripped his shirt as they'd fallen over, revealing muscles that weren't obvious underneath his costume.

Alya left the amusement park as it entered the fifth month of being open. The red-head was pursuing her dream of being a journalist, and had been accepted for a position at a local newspaper. They still lived in the same cheap apartment building, though she was sure that the couple were going to be engaged soon. Nino had confessed that he was saving up the right amount of money for a larger home, be it an apartment or house, along with the ring.

The higher-ups had requested more uniforms, and some new ones for newcomers that had just been hired, so there was plenty of extra money to be earned. Marinette still ran her blog and sold some of her casual creations when she had time, and it was adding up nicely as time progressed. Soon, she was sure she'd be able to move to a better home, away from the noise from her current residence. Her parents had expressed how proud they were that she was self-sufficient, and knowing that they were happy for her made her mood brighter.

It was nearing the mid-year guest count when she noticed something peculiar. Marinette's usual day entailed looking at Adrien from the corner of her eyes, taking in the small ministrations that he usually did and wonder if there was anything different. He still kept to himself, barely making conversation, and that fact caused guilt to course through her even more so.

Maybe he was bad at talking to others—perhaps he'd blurted those flirtatious things in an attempt to befriend her without realising that she was uncomfortable or that she'd not enjoy them. As time had gone on, she'd felt mortified at her reaction; the raised voice, tears in her eyes and even crushing the bottle from frustrations. It was an ugly side of her that she'd prefer no one saw again.

He was paler than usual. The only make-up he wore was the red-coloured lipstick that was usually smeared to not appear pristine, and when they'd passed each other in the break-room after dressing she'd been close enough to see that there was no foundation involved. There were slight dark marks underneath his eyes, too, though not as bad as the smeared make-up that Marinette wore for her costume.

The colour didn't go back to his cheeks. He appeared to be losing weight as time went on, too, which worried her greatly.

It was okay to worry about her co-workers, she repeatedly told herself when it became somewhat more than a habit to inspect his well-being without being too obvious.

So _what_ if they weren't friends? There was nothing stopping her from approaching and asking him if he was feeling okay, questioning if he was eating well—

Except all she could think about when they were near to each other was the hurt expression that had been on his face the last time they'd spoken.

“It wasn't my fault,” Marinette muttered to herself. It—it was a joint effort, surely.

The feelings of guilt built up as he continuously looked worse. Within a week, the bags beneath his eyes were more pronounced, eyelids drooping constantly and making him appear as though he was going to fall over. His movements were becoming sluggish, taking a longer period of time to appear from the dressing-rooms every time.

She waited until their co-workers had left their break-room before attempting to approach him.

Marinette was seated nervously, eyes trained on the door that he would be emerging from with casual clothing on. Her clammy hands were constantly rubbed against the material of her jeans in an attempt to calm down, but the beating of her heart was still consistent.

He had every right to tell her to leave him alone.

When he emerged, his sleepy eyes were focused on making sure his bag was shut. Therefore, when the blond walked forward slowly and went to raise his hand to grasp the doorknob, she decided to awkwardly clear her throat to catch his attention.

Much like before, he froze briefly before his hand dropped down to his side.

“Hello,” the dark-haired female started cautiously, taking his presence as a sign that she didn't have to leave immediately. “I—I was wondering whether you're okay.”

His lips opened, but no sound came out.

“You don't look so well,” she continued, wincing when she realised it could be taken as an insult. “I-I mean...”

With furrowed eyebrows, Adrien asked quietly, “Why?”

Why did she care? It would've been rude not to be concerned about his sudden change. “I'm sorry for before,” Marinette said instead, fiddling with her fingers nervously. “It was a mistake to lash out at you, and you didn't deserve it.”

“No.” In a nervous habit that she'd seen from a distance, Adrien ran his hand through his golden tresses of hair. “I was out of line. You had every right to get angry at me.”

The reaction was unexpected. Marinette openly showed her surprise at his sudden understanding, wondering whether he connected the dots and realised that he'd been talking to her like his fans did to him. It was strange, really, that he wasn't offended or even angry at her sudden concern when they hadn't interacted for months. They'd been awkwardly walking past each other without communication, baffling their co-workers at the sudden behaviour.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“I'd say I'm fine,” Adrien started quietly, hand dropping to cup the nape of his neck, “but that would be a lie. I apologise for my unwelcome advances, too.”

Blinking, she took in the pale skin, dark shadows underneath his usually bright eyes and the half-lidded eyelids from exhaustion. “Are you having trouble sleeping?” It was the only conclusion to grasp at; his appetite was unknown, and there weren't any bruises visible from his short-sleeved t-shirt to hint at any kind of abuse.

“Unfortunately,” he confirmed.

She couldn't exactly help with that—there was no medicine that caused drowsiness on hand, and she certainly couldn't punch him so he'd pass out, as that would've been awfully wrong on multiple levels. So, all she could do in the end was nod in understanding, not able to offer words of comfort.

He seemed to pick up on the sudden silence meaning she was at a loss on what to say. “Is there a chance you'd still try and be my friend?”

It wasn't what she was expecting at all. Marinette stilled, eyes opening wide in surprise, lips parting without a sound. “You—really?” was all she could utter, the words quick and high-pitched at the end. “You still want to be my friend after I was a total bitch?”

He made a noise of amusement, and it was the closest she'd heard to him laughing in weeks. “I was an ogre right back at you.”

“I wouldn't say that...”

“Just tell me what to avoid doing,” the blond advised with a sheepish smile. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable in the future.”

And she didn't want to make him feel awkward in turn. Marinette tentatively explained that she didn't want to hear bad pick-up lines, flirtatious comments that were out of line (although sexual jokes would be fine if they weren't too extreme), and he simply nodded his head, agreeing with each.

When she asked what he wanted her to avoid doing, he softly replied, “How you treat me already is fine. It's... different.”

It would've been a lie to say that her face hadn't turned red.

-x-

The mid-year guest count was near. All the employees had been invited out for dinner with a weeks notice, and just under half had confirmed that they could attend. By the time the dinner party came to be, which was almost the seventh month instead of sixth, Marinette could proudly say they were friends by that point. It had been awkward at first, the two of them caught between opening their mouths to talk or simply stare at each other without attempting to further the contact. When she'd burst into laughter from their behaviour during their shifts—startling guests from the abrupt, and loud, noise—he'd responded in kind and let out a low chuckle that complimented his appearance. Marinette was avidly trying to squash her quickened heartbeat when he was around, fully intending to treat him like Nino—a friend, one who she _wouldn't_ hit on despite their attractiveness.

He had a silly sense of humour. The jokes had appeared when they started to spend their lunches together, even the ones where his shifts had been spent attracting guests to their section. Marinette had been concerned at first when she noticed that he really didn't eat lunch, but he explained it away by nerves, proclaiming that he ate any food he could when he was home and away from prying eyes. Adrien was more than happy to say what food he preferred, even asking her own favourites and questioning why she liked them. It was strange at first, but she decided it was just a quirk that he had.

The lack of sleep was still obvious, however. The dark marks underneath his eyes had grown worse, he yawned constantly when they were working or spending time together, and when she asked whether he was okay a sad expression would flicker across his face before it was smothered and replaced by a polite smile that was there to say he wasn't going to lie and say he was fine.

So, she didn't ask. There was no need for him to explain that he was _not_ okay, and she avoided the topic avidly. If he wanted to confess his troubles then he was more than welcome to, but pushing him to do it would get them nowhere. Instead of watching him from afar as she had done in the past, he gravitated towards her when they had the time, making silly comments that made her laugh and slowly grow fond of him.

She could proudly say that she most definitely did not hate him. The Adrien she'd come to know was kind, sweet when he questioned how she'd slept and whether she had plans for later that evening, and was wholly charming when he wasn't uttering flirtatious comments.

They were _friends_.

The dinner party was held in the restaurant of the hotel they'd had free drinks at before—the amusement park owner was a friend of the hotel's owner, it turned out—and the space was just as luxurious and beautifully decorated as the rest of the hotel. There were drapes over the curtains, quiet instrumental music setting the mood, and different sets of cutlery that had Marinette baffled for a moment before she realised what they were for. The employees that attended were each separated into different tables—per section—and Marinette had the pleasure of meeting the burly werewolf that worked on her days off.

Their food was ordered for them already since they'd filed their allergies with their résumés previously. Marinette enjoyed the main course, making appreciative noises along with the rest of the table, and only noticed that something was amiss when the chatter of the other tables was the only noise she could hear.

Placing her cutlery down, she tilted her head curiously as she looked at the blond seated beside her. Adrien was pushing the food absent-mindedly around his plate, never raising the utensil to his mouth. The bags underneath his eyes were more prominent in the lighting, even more so with the shadows of his golden-tinged eyelashes cast over them. She looked at him concern, noting that his cheeks had started to thin out.

“Adrien?” she asked softly.

The fork clattered onto the plate, startling their table momentarily. “Excuse me,” he choked out, sounding uncomfortable. “I... I need fresh air.”

With that said, he navigated through the room to the doors decorated by drape curtains that led to the beautiful patio outside, complete with a seating area for sunny afternoons. Marinette watched as he got slowly smaller, wondering whether he would complain about her company.

He was a gentle person. Adrien avoided conflict to the best of his ability; when a guest became defensive and insisted he was the reason that their child had fallen over, he calmly explained that they could talk to the manager with any complaints, and personally apologised to the offended party. Through the time where they'd become closer, he had never snapped in frustration, never portrayed his annoyance from anything at all. If she hadn't seen that he was capable of being hurt or able to wear a perfectly neutral expression, there would've been concern that he was far too happy.

He was hurting at that moment, even more so than usual from his lack of sleep.

With her mind made up, Marinette excused herself softly and walked through to the patio, crossing her arms to stay warm from the chilly breeze. All of the other guests were inside the restaurant—no one outside even for a cigarette—so it was easy to spot him sat down on a bench in the corner, elbows on his knees and resting his forehead in his palm. It was a defeated pose that didn't suit him at all; the Adrien she knew was a positive fellow that enjoyed puns, made her day brighter with a dumb comment that had her shaking her head, and one that didn't lie about his troubles, just preferred not to talk about them.

She wetted her lips.

Instead of drawing attention to herself, Marinette settled down beside him, leaning against the back of the bench and waited. She admired the night sky, smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, inspected her short nails, and even counted to twenty in her head until it seemed an adequate amount of time to interrupt him.

“I won't ask how you are,” she started, glancing at him from the corner of her cerulean eyes. “I'll ask if this is how you want to be instead.”

Even with the golden strands of hair obscuring her vision of his face, she could see the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. “That's very like you.”

She smiled despite knowing he couldn't see it. “Do you think you know me so well already?”

“I know your favourite foods, drinks, and colours—so, yes, I think so.” There was amusement in his tone, though he didn't laugh. “I don't know what to tell you, Marinette.”

That had been clear from the beginning. “Then don't tell me anything,” the dark-haired female suggested quietly, scooting closer to bump her shoulder against his in an affectionate gesture. “Just let me be here for you until you feel better, then we'll face the horrors of our haunted table together.”

The silence between them grew, but it wasn't awkward. Marinette allowed their bodies to continue touching as she looked at the sky once more, hands clasped patiently in her lap. The sounds of the restaurant were muffled almost, not quite distinguishable from their distance; Adrien had picked the furthest seating area he could away from the door, meaning they were beside a large stone with a built-in ashtray upon the top.

She didn't push him for answers, or even to say anything at all as the time passed.

The higher-ups had already informed their employees which section had won before the dinner. Unsurprisingly, the haunted house had won by a few hundred, beating the princesses that played and posed with children throughout the day. The prize was a rise in their monthly pay and a handsome bonus, so there wasn't anything to complain about. The guest count would happen again when the amusement park hit a year old, and Marinette idly wondered whether she'd still be employed by that point.

It was a dream to sell her own clothing for a job, but she was realistic enough to realise that that would be hard to come by. The amusement park was already a miracle chance for her to display her skills and design a various amount of designs, and the blog she ran in her free time allowed her some small internet fame.

The weight against her side increased. She blinked in surprise, looking to the side quizzically before realising that Adrien had slumped over, hand fallen from his pale face, and was resting against her instead. His breaths were steady and deep, eyes closed with shadows of his eyelashes displayed across his defined cheekbones. There wasn't a freckle upon his skin at such a distance, nor did he have any moles on that part of his body.

Carefully, Marinette raised her hand and brushed the hair away from his face where it was pressed against her. She shuffled slightly, adjusting his position into a marginally more comfortable one.

He was sleeping, no visible worries on his face; gone were the furrowed brows and neutral line to his lips. He looked—he _was_ peaceful as he was at that moment. With the night sky above, the outdoor lights illuminating them in their far corner, and no sign of the smudged red lipstick that he sported for more than half of the week.

She fidgeted, adjusting her numbing muscles and limbs, trying not to awake him in the process. Eventually, the solution came to be her tentatively cradling his head and moving him onto her lap, meaning he was no longer awkwardly hunched. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but it was better for his back than the previous one.

Over time, it wasn't that good for her, however. Marinette winced at her rapidly numbing legs once more, wiggling every few minutes to try and counteract the sensation, and occupied herself by gently running her fingers through his hair as she leaned back and looked at the sky above.

The need to protect him was flaring up again. He was vulnerable, _asleep_ , and breathing quietly without any interruptions. Even though it would only be a short period of time, she hoped that it would ease his stress from lack of sleep.

Playing with her cell phone—after setting the device to silent—Marinette winced when she noted that it was nearing eleven in the evening. The dinner had requested the restaurant to stay open until midnight for their event, but she knew that they would be pushing their luck soon. Although the hotel had employees working throughout the night, she highly doubted they'd appreciate finding the two of them outside in the late hours of the evening.

The bare skin of her legs beneath the knees and her hands was freezing, her cheeks and nose surely red from the temperature. It was a surprise that her nose wasn't running at all.

The decision to let him sleep until half past wasn't ruined by a newcomer. Adrien had awoken with a start, shuddering from his position on her lap as he groaned softly from the feeling of waking up. She bit into her lower lip and glanced at look at his disgruntled face, noting the frown and his furrowed eyebrows that hadn't been there previously for the past hour or so. He had yet to open his eyes, instead shuffling and readjusting his position as if to become comfortable again.

With a gasp, his eyes shot open—his wide emerald ones meeting hers—and he looked visibly stunned before comprehending the situation. Marinette tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, unsure of how to start the conversation, as he recoiled away and almost fell to the floor.

“I—” Adrien started, starting to sit up properly before a panicked expression became apparent. With an audible noise, he slapped a hand over his mouth, leaning back the furthest he could against the bench.

She wasn't offended by the action. “Worried about morning breath?”

He kept eye contact with an unfathomable expression, pale hand still covering his mouth.

“You didn't drool, if that was also a concern,” the dark-haired female reassured him. “It wasn't that long, but it seemed like you needed that.”

Adrien visibly panicked. One moment he had been asleep on her lap, and the next he was shaking and standing up with his mouth still covered before bolting away without a word.

Marinette watched with wide confused eyes as he disappeared into the distance, sprinting through the restaurant and to the exist without explaining to their co-workers. He already had his possessions on hand, they both did, but that wasn't the point.

Running a hand through her hair, she wondered what she'd done wrong.

He had a problem with eating in public; could that mean he avoided sleeping in front of others, too? It wasn't as though anyone else had wandered in. It had been the two of them quietly in the dark, yet that didn't mean he was comfortable with her more than anyone else when it came to those subjects.

“He still doesn't eat in front of me,” she muttered, sighing.

When she'd given her thanks to the higher-ups and excused herself from the hotel, declining the offer of staying for drinks at the bar to bond further, and started to wander back to her apartment complex. Her legs had long since recovered from the numbness—thankfully, she hadn't tripped when standing up from the bench—and the cold air caused her to shudder as she searched for her cell phone.

Due to the area they lived in, Alya and Marinette made sure they called each other when they were walking outside and it was late. It was a safety precaution, and she knew that the red-head would be awake at that time since Nino's job had him coming back early in the morning.

The cell phone took a few rings to connect. When the muffled noise of her best friend came through the speaker, Marinette smiled happily. Even after Alya had left her job at the amusement park, they continued to spend time together when they could. The breaks she used to spend with Alya had been replaced with Adrien, but she hadn't a clue where the blond lived, so they had never walked home together.

Alya was mentioning a particularly petulant co-worker that she shared an office with at the newspaper, ranting and raving about their despicable attitude and lack of research that tainted their whole department, capturing the dark-haired female's attention away from the dark streets. She avoided the shortcuts that had no lights to illuminate the way, talking softly as to not draw attention to herself.

There had been reports of a tall figure dressed in black the past few weeks. The newspaper had covered it after the police had rejected the case, saying there was nothing they could do as no crimes had been committed, but it still put their neighbourhoods on edge. The culprit was said to lurk in the shadows by himself, watching intently at those that walked past alone, and sometimes fell into step behind and followed them, even if they went an obscure way.

It wasn't classed as stalking, apparently. There were theories that it was a shady drug dealer, perhaps someone that was intoxicated and out of his mind, but none of them had ever been proven. All the newspaper had published was that they were tall, wore black clothing purposely, a hood to cover their face, and had gloves on.

“Alya?” Marinette questioned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Hello, are you there?”

The noise was gone. She pulled her cell phone away, groaning in frustration when it became clear that her battery had died. The device was set to silent still, explaining the lack of warning. The games she'd played while Adrien had been sleeping had drained the device, though she was only a few streets away from home. Hopefully, Alya wouldn't overreact and call the police and assume the worse because of a battery problem.

When she'd turned a corner, a movement down an alley caught her attention. Marinette stilled in shock, knowing full well that she should've ran away rather than become rooted to the spot, but all that was floating through her mind was that it wasn't black that she'd seen.

The flash of something light had piqued her curiosity, especially when a muffled noise was combined.

It wasn't smart of her. She argued with herself that if she was injured, she'd like it if a stranger came to inspect her, too. So with that in mind, Marinette safely tucked her cell phone away, aware of her shivering as she started down the alley.

There was a body slumped beside a bundle of cardboard boxes. A pair of shoes were sticking out, black-coloured trousers pushed up and showing white socks that she'd caught from the street. She approached cautiously, unsure whether they were in need of assistance from an injury or from alcohol. Before she could make noise to attract their attention, the figure stiffened visibly in the dark lighting.

“D-do you need—”

Marinette wasn't able to finish the sentence. The stranger suddenly jumped on with a low groan, bolting to the other side of the alley without turning back or seeing what she wanted. There was no black clothing other than the trousers, but the shirt and the golden-coloured strands of hair that fell to brush the tops of his ears had her staring at the retreating figure in confusion once more.

“ _Adrien_?” she whispered, perplexed.

-x-

She sincerely hoped that Adrien wasn't the individual terrorising the streets at night. There had been sightings since the night she'd seen him slumped against an alley wall, but no one had caught a glimpse of their face or been attacked.

When they'd seen each other at work the next day, he didn't offer any explanations for his behaviour. Marinette had been wary at first, unsure of how to tentatively ask whether he'd collapsed from lack of sleep or if he was secretly an aspiring criminal. Instead of avoiding her—as she would've done if their positions were reversed—Adrien continued to spend time talking with her in their break-rooms, taking lunches together and asking what she'd packed for herself that afternoon, and still sending messages when they were at home or when they weren't scheduled for work.

Mireille had expressed her jealousy that Marinette had managed to befriend the blond, then it had turned into Mireille wanting to be seen with him around the park, so her picture would be shared on the internet, too. There were still multiple guests visiting to catch a glimpse of him after all that time, and he confessed one afternoon that even though it was flattering, he felt uncertain and embarrassed whenever they praised him.

His health was still decreasing, though. There was a noticeable difference in his cheeks, arms when he rolled up his sleeves in their free time, and his sleeping hadn't much improved either.

When she'd questioned what the doctors thought of his condition, he'd neutrally responded, “They aren't too sure how to treat me correctly.”

He rejected sleeping medicine saying it didn't work. Any advice for his diet was explained away that he preferred to eat in private away from the prying eyes, but when Marinette asked in concern whether he needed to drink more, only then did it click that she'd _never_ seen him consume anything. Not at the bar when they'd met, even though he'd flagged down a bartender and ordered one. He hadn't used the coffee machine in the break-room (when Marinette had asked him to make one for her, he'd been lost and confused until she'd explained it), nor had he opened and drank from a bottle in their time together.

Eight months was a long time not to see someone eat or drink.

“This is absurd,” Marinette muttered to herself as she sat on her bed, jotting down in a notebook the things she'd noticed about her friend. She had been planning on researching herbal remedies or any type of treatment other than medicine that would help his condition, but the more she looked at her notes, the more she convinced that something was wrong.

When she packed her lunch for the next day, she made one for him, too. Even if he wouldn't eat it in front of her, taking home the bundle filled with food would do a lot of good for him.

“This is for me?” Adrien asked, eyes wide as he stared at the container in his hands. The foods were separated, and the plastic was coloured and non-transparent. At her nod, the smile reached his eyes as he profusely thanked her. “I've never had anyone make me lunch before—well, dinner, I guess.”

“It's no problem,” she replied softly, very much aware of the increased speed of her heart. There was something disarming about his happiness that always had her smiling right back, appreciating his sincerity. Without the awkward flirting, he was quite charming when he didn't try to be. “I hope you get some rest later, too.”

The next day he returned the container, expressing his thanks and saying he'd already washed it from gratitude. “The food was great—very sweet,” he said, fingers running through the hairs at his nape in a tell-tale gesture. “Thanks again, Marinette.”

It hadn't been sweet, however. None of the ingredients had been remotely sugary, and half had spices that had her nose running at times. She'd pushed aside the suspicion, not adding it to her list that had been originally of his ailments, and had since turned into a page filled with his oddities. He could've meant that the gesture itself was sweet, rather than the food.

It was two days later when she made more food. It wasn't intentional until she realised that there were more leftovers than needed, so the container was packed and set aside for the following day, even though he was set to be off overmorrow.

Adrien reacted in much the same manner; wide smile, sincerity and happily accepted the offered container and said that he'd return it on Tuesday, rather than leaving it in their break-room where it could've been mistaken as rubbish.

He was busy that day attracting guests to their section, so Marinette scouted through the park to find him and settled down on a nearby bench to eat her lunch. It was enjoyable watching him interact with guests, so she didn't interrupt.

“Oh,” she muttered, grimacing. There was far too much salt in her food, almost inedible, and she assumed she'd knocked something over, as mistakes weren't common for her any longer. Her parents had raised her well, teaching her to cook and bake from a young age, so the sour taste in her mouth was from the food along with the failure.

Marinette waved at the blond briefly to signal that she was going back to work—laughing when he pulled a displeased face from not realising she was there—and forgot to warn him about the food.

So, when Tuesday came and he gave her the clean container and exclaimed that it was wonderful, she was suspicious.

“Really?” Marinette enquired, looking at him through narrowed eyes. “Or are you just saying this to make me feel better?”

“Oh, no!” he protested, hands moving with his words to emphasise his point. “I'm new to this whole someone cooking for me thing, but I absolutely loved it. It had the perfect balance of flavours.”

Either he was throwing the food away discreetly, or his sense of taste was atrocious. Marinette deduced that it was the first, and that he preferred to stick to his own food and diet, so she didn't pack any leftovers for him in the future. When they spent their lunches together, Marinette was still the only one eating, no matter where they were sat in the park, and she felt increasingly awkward as time went on.

She licked her lips. “What do you do if you have a girlfriend?”

“Eh?”

“Or boyfriend,” Marinette corrected with a shrug, leaning back against the bench as the breeze caressed her face. “You're not comfortable eating in front of people, right? So I imagine it would be awkward to sit in separate rooms for dinner.”

“You make me sound ridiculous,” he muttered, slouching forward and leaning his chin into his palm. “I'm not some scientific experiment, you know.”

Fondly, she reached over and ruffled his golden hair, glad that he didn't gel it back as the higher-ups had originally suggested (he'd gotten out of it by claiming to be allergic to the substance, he'd eventually told her). “I'm not making fun of you here, I'm truly curious.”

“Well,” the male started awkwardly, glaring at her from the corner of his eyes. “I... I haven't really had to deal with it. I've never dated anyone.”

 _Oh_. “You—really? _You_?” Marinette spluttered, words not quite coherent as she processed the thought. Eventually, she was able to mumble, “Well, that's shocking.” They were near to each other in age; Adrien was only a few months older than she was. “I would've thought everyone would be all over you, just like those rude guests we sometimes get.”

“I guess.” He shrugged half-heartedly. “It's not from lack of trying on my part, I can assure you.”

She blinked. “If you're going to give me a sob story about being rejected...”

“I'll save you the tears for another day, then.” His eyes were still narrowed, but she could see the smile across his reddened lips. “My mother taught me to look for someone I just _click_ with, if you understand what I mean.”

Fiddling with her container, Marinette tilted her head curiously. “Yes, sure. I think I get it.” It was the first time he was mentioning his family to her. Marinette had heartedly told him about her own during their time together, and had never pushed for any information about his. He was open about how he spent his free time, so she assumed they were either not close or no longer around.

“Right.” He cleared his throat, a hand running nervously through his hair. “It didn't go too well.”

“This is starting to sound like a soap opera,” she remarked dryly.

Turning his head to glare at her with both eyes, Marinette wisely pressed her lips into a thin line (trying to quell the twitching that meant she was close to laughter).

“As it turned out, I'm awful at trying to express myself like that.” She tried not to laugh, she really did, but the curl of distaste of his upper lip caused her to erupt into hearty bursts of laughter as she recalled just how atrocious he really was. “I don't need your input on this; I'm well aware.”

Smiling, Marinette bumped her shoulder against his affectionately. “It's just a matter of sincerity, I'm telling you. The pick-up lines and comments won't work most of the time unless you're friends first, or they're intoxicated. Just be yourself, Adrien.”

“Are you giving me love advice?” he questioned incredulously. “ _Really_?”

She stuck her tongue out childishly. “Is there something wrong with me?”

Rather than replying instantly, Adrien made a noise of disapproval and fiddled with the hairs on the nape of his neck nervously. “You're the one I'm talking about here.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

It was an understandable reaction, it had to be. Her body stiffened unintentionally, unable to mask her surprise, and by the sigh that escaped his lips as he rested his chin upon his palm once more, it was clear that he thought her reaction was one of disapproval.

It was... flattering. Her cheeks flooded with warmth, much like they did during their conversations usually, and she was suddenly conscious of how they were sitting, with their cloth-clad thighs brushing against each other.

“That doesn't make much sense, though,” the female murmured, clutching the container tightly. “You were flirtatious the first time we met—in the bar, remember?” She certainly did. The night was a source of embarrassment, even months later. “If you wanted to follow your mother's advice, you would've gotten to know me.”

“Seeing you was enough,” he responded quietly.

Their conversation was absurd, there was no other way to describe it. Marinette's heart was beating violently in her chest, pulse loud and demanding in her head, and she was close to gripping the roots of her hair in frustration from the sudden topic. It was—it was too _soon_. The flirtatious comments had been shoved aside for their budding friendship, and by the point of knowing each other for eight months, she could proudly say he was her closest male friend (beating Nino, who'd achieved that title in record time).

The soft-hearted, sometimes silly, and definitely goofy male that she'd come to known was the one who held the feelings of her affections; the Adrien before, the awkward one that made her stutter and retort hotly from being objectified, hadn't been able to befriend her at all.

She swallowed. “That's lust, Adrien.”

“I don't think so.” Looking at him from the corner of her eyes, she noticed his eyes were closed and his face was contorted into a grimace. “Let's pretend I never mentioned this, then.”

That was going to be troubling. “D-do you still feel the same?”

The murmurs of guests walking past, their loud laughter and footsteps from racing to catch up to each other, filled the silence that was growing between them. Marinette felt stiff, awkward, and as she clutched the container far tighter than was necessary, she wondered whether she would feel different about his advances.

His voice was hoarse when he tentatively whispered, “Yes.”

Her heartbeat was louder than his reply, surely. Marinette's limbs stiffened in surprise, eyes flickering between the side-profile of his face that was void of the usual smile or dimples, instead making him appear sicker than usual from the hollowing cheeks, darkness underneath his eyes and the negative expression. It didn't suit him, yet she didn't know how to correct any of it. Her pulse fluttered in concern once more.

“Oh,” was all that escaped, however, and she was mortified that the dumb response was popping up more often than not.

“I'm not asking you for an answer now, or even ever,” Adrien continued softly, ruffling his hair once more. “Just know that if you ever feel anything more than friendship for me, I'd very much reciprocate it.”

Bewildered, Marinette didn't get time to respond before he was standing up, offering a hand to pull her from the bench, with a small smile that showed his dimples.

“Come on, Marinette,” he coaxed, wiggling his fingers with a laugh. “We've got to get back to work.”

There was no point denying that her heartbeat picked up.

-x-

Adrien hadn't changed his behaviour towards her, even after the make-shift confession. She had been flustered at first when they'd messaged each other that evening after work, and then embarrassed for herself when he wasn't replying any differently. No awkward pick-up lines, no flirtatious comments, and no kisses onto her hand when they said good-bye to each other.

Just like when they'd first met, Marinette was a bundle of nervousness and constantly stuttered or blushed at the worst moments when they were talking. He never made fun of her, though, and smiled and continued on with their conversations as if nothing had happened.

Her resolve for their friendship was to treat him differently to the guests that constantly fawned over him; the protective urge that spiked whenever he was uncomfortable with being flirted with had made sure of that. So, she'd promptly ignored the growing feelings that hadn't been of friendship, convinced that his happiness was more important that the swell of her heart when he smiled brightly.

Even with his thinned cheeks and lack of sleep, there was something unobtainable and attractive about the blond male; when he smiled that quality of his intensified, and her heart would pick up as she'd grin right back at him. The Adrien she had come to know—the sincere, kind-hearted individual that liked to look at pictures of baby animals—wasn't just a pretty face; if anything, he was more beautiful on the inside.

So, when he emerged from a dressing-room after their shifts one day, Marinette was settled down on a chair and staring intently as he wobbled from his lack of sleep. Wetting her lips, she questioned, “Do you like me?”

He didn't miss a beat as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I think that should be fairly obvious.”

Making a noise of frustration, she tried her best to word her sentence so she wouldn't come across as a naïve teenager. “D-do you _like_ me?”

Emerald eyes met her own as he raised his eyebrows with a smile tugging at his lips. “I'd say I love you, but you'd probably hit me.”

Warmth blossomed along her cheeks. “...Why?”

“Because you're a violent being?” he responded innocently, grin causing the corner of his eyes to crinkle. “And because everything about you is attractive, Marinette—yes, I do mean your personality, too.”

“I cry when I'm mad,” she blurted, shifting in her seat. “I'm quick to make assumptions, and I'm too stubborn.”

Closing the distance between them, Adrien's feet were almost brushing against her own as she looked up to see him breathe a noise of amusement. “I'm not putting you on a pedestal and expecting you to be perfect—it's nice that you're human.”

She blinked.

“I like you for, well, _you_. That means your stubbornness and everything else included,” he continued, sounding amused. “I'll still keep my word and not try and woo you awkwardly.”

“...It was really awkward.”

He laughed. “Looking up advice online didn't work too well, as you can tell.”

Shaking her head fondly, Marinette agreed and added, “I think you've managed to seduce me better during these months without trying than you did before.”

“I said before not for lack of trying,” the blond pointed out, shifting the weight upon his feet.

Licking her lips to buy time, she took in his tall figure, taking notice that he'd flicked his eyes away from hers to gaze at the blank wall. “Do you think you could hold back from those awful pick-up lines if we went on a date?” she asked softly, approaching the subject as gently as possible.

He still stiffened, though. “What?” Adrien questioned eloquently.

“Yes?” She tilted her head slightly to the side, a small smile across her whitened lips. “Did you forget I said that you'd managed to seduce me?”

“I wasn't sure what you meant,” he pointed out, eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at her. “Are you teasing me right now?”

Shuffling, Marinette stood up, the flowing material of her casual shirt pressing against him from their closeness. Their shoes were touching by that point, meaning she had to tilt her head up slightly to look at him. She tentatively reached forward to grasp his hand (that wasn't curled around his bag), nervous fingers threading through his and noticing the hardened skin by his knuckles.

“No,” the dark-haired female whispered, squeezing his fingers and wishing that he wasn't frozen in shock. “I'd like to go on a date with you.”

There were shadows of his eyelashes over the tips of his thin cheeks, emphasised by the dark marks permanently smudged there, and her eyes flickered to the reddened lips once more.

She licked her own. “What do you say?”

The expression that had been previously stuck between neutral and shocked changed; his eyes widened, allowing her to see the viridian-coloured irides at a close range, and feel his breath against her skin as he smiled widely. “I think you're remarkable,” Adrien murmured, dimples showing with his soft tone.

The warmth of her face wasn't just from his breaths. “Thank you for remarking on it, then,” she replied shyly, aware that her hands were becoming clammy from nervousness.

As if he knew her thoughts, the stiffened hand relaxed and gently squeezed her own, his thumb finding the back of her hand and starting to trace a soft circle on her skin. “Are you free this Saturday?”

“Sure,” she breathed.

Her pulse had quickened, thunderous and demanding from their close distance, and his reddened lips seemed just so inviting and ever-so-close, but she wasn't going to make him uncomfortable. Marinette used her free hand, that wasn't intertwined with his, to grip onto his arm for stability and raised herself up to place a chaste kiss against his cheek. The skin was cool, not the burning temperature that her own cheeks were.

The hand was retracted from hers in an instance, and the blond took a unsteady step back to create space between them. And in a move that was reminiscent to their night at the restaurant, Adrien covered his mouth and looked at her with a panicked expression—wide eyes and raised eyebrows that looked _horrified—_ before stumbling away.

“I-I've got to—” Adrien started, sounding winded and terrified. “ _Bye_.”

It was too similar. One moment he had been there, soft smiles and an endearing expression, and then he'd sprinted off into the distance and left her with multiple questions running through her head. Had she done something wrong again?

Her curiosity got the best of her, however. Marinette placed her bag on her bag, kept the cell phone in her hand as she walked through the darkening streets, taking in the shadows and movements of others. As she passed alleyways, she peered in to see whether there'd be a collapsed figure once more, worried that he'd had a panic attack of some sort.

If she knew where he lived, it would've been easier, too. They hadn't sorted out their date at all due to the sudden disturbance.

With an idea in mind, Marinette dialled his number as she pressed the cold device to her ear with a shaking hand, listening to the rings.

There was no answer the first two times. The dark-haired female had almost given up when she turned a corner, and noticed a faint ringing in the distance.

She stilled, disconnecting the call.

It was the song he'd specifically chosen for her. Marinette called his cell phone again, holding it warily in her hand as she peered down the nearest alley to see whether he was there.

The music lead her down to the other end, where a shop's door came out beside a bin, and what she saw had her covering her mouth in horror.

His cell phone was on the ground, screen partially cracked and illuminated, showing a picture of her as her call continued.

It—it was _dark_. There had been no reported attacks, yet the worst case scenario was flowing through her mind. What if the black-clad culprit had finally struck and had chosen Adrien as his target?

“No,” she whispered, kneeling to collect his damaged device. “He could've dropped this.”

And despite her mumbled reassurances, her eyes felt hot and incredibly dry, throat thick, and she hastily wiped her face in denial.

-x-

Alya had been the one to convince her not to go to the police—it was just a lost cell phone, after all. Marinette had been a worried mess when she'd gotten back to her apartment building, instantly rushing to her best friend's door and knocking without the usual rhythm. One look at her had the couple inside reaching for their bottles of alcohol, and she'd readily accept them without complaint.

It was Adrien's day off the following day, but she still took the cell phone along to work. The higher-ups wouldn't release their personal information without authorisation, so there was no point going to them to ask for his address.

He did turn up, though. When she'd emerged after her shift with casual clothing on once more, only some of the make-up wiped off and her hair secured in a plait, Marinette had taken one took at the blond sat at the table and flown across the room and wrapped her arms around his neck. The embrace was a surprise to them both—especially him, as she heard his loud breath—and she squeezed, babbling nonsense that wasn't quite coherent and probably made him worried for her sanity.

She was ecstatic he was fine, no bruises other than the ones from lack of sleep, and as she had her arms wrapped around him she could feel the weight loss, definitely.

Awkwardly, from being sat down, Adrien placed his arms around her waist and returned the gesture in confusion. “Marinette?” he questioned, interrupting her incoherent rambling. “What's wrong?”

“I-I'm just—” To her embarrassment, she felt her eyes growing hot once more as her voice hitched, reminiscent to how to was whenever she tried to talk to someone while crying. Blinking rapidly, she tightened her hold, pulling his face further into his clothing, causing him to turn his head to the side to breathe properly. “I'm so relieved _._ ”

He made a noise of agreement. “Rough day, then?”

Goodness, he had no idea—a bubble of laughter escaped as she realised he had no inkling that she'd tossed and turned, regretting not visiting each other's homes and sharing other such details that could've soothed her worries. Yet seeing him before her, unharmed other than the illnesses he was battling, made her soothingly run her fingers through his soft strands of hair in a comforting gesture.

He wasn't questioning her odd behaviour, surprisingly. “I came to figure out the details of our date tomorrow,” Adrien clarified, clearing his throat. “Somehow my phone got misplaced, so I thought it would be a good idea to come here and find you. Sorry I didn't time it during your lunch break.”

“Oh, right,” she murmured, reluctantly releasing her hold on him and stepping back with flushed cheeks. Searching through her bag, she retrieved the damaged device and held it uncertainly in her hands. “I-I found this last night.”

He blinked, not comprehending that it was his until he sighed at the crack in the screen. “That's really convenient,” the blond remarked, taking it from her hands. “Thank you, Marinette.”

There were questions on her tongue—why had he collapsed in an alley before, and was it for the same reason that he'd run off the previous day? No matter how much she thought, she couldn't connect the two events together, not understanding what she'd done to cause his reaction (if it had ever been her fault).

Licking her lips, Marinette clasped her clammy hands together and fiddled with her thumbs. “Adrien,” she started quietly, gulping. “...I saw you before.”

He froze, hand clutching the device too tight as his eyes flickered away to stare at her shoes instead. Their positions were the opposite of the previous day, and he wouldn't have a clear path to run away if the time came for it.

“You can tell me, you know?” she whispered, taking a step forward so their shoes were lightly pressing against each other. “I wouldn't stop liking you because of it. You said it before—we're human because of our flaws, right?”

Somehow, those words only made his reaction worse. Adrien visibly flinched, recoiling away to press his back against the chair, causing her to furrow her eyebrows in confusion. She took in the averted eyes, tightened hold that caused his knuckles to turn whiter where they were visible, and wondered whether he was going to have an attack of sorts again.

“I'm not asking for an answer,” the dark-haired female pointed out, trying to soothe his worries the best she could, “not unless you want to.”

Lowering his head and running a hand over his facial features in frustration, Adrien gritted out, “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“You went to an alleyway again, didn't you?” she responded, shifting her feet. “That's why you lost your phone, yes?”

There was no reply.

“It's okay, Adrien.”

His hand fell, and the glimpse of his expression had guilt coursing though her. His features were scrunched together in what seemed to be a mixture of irritation and pain, and all she could think was that it was because of _her_ that it was happening at all. This wasn't how she'd imagined it going at all—even though she'd barely had time to think about it.

Dropping to her knees, she peered up at him with wide and worried cerulean eyes as she steadied herself on his legs. “I'm sorry,” Marinette offered quietly.

“...You saw,” he croaked, voice barely audible.

His eyes were closed, so she couldn't convey her sincerity of her regret for making him feel as he was. “It's nothing to be ashamed about.”

“You don't understand.”

She traced her thumb on the material of his trousers. “Then help me.”

A frustrated sigh left him, face contorting into a grimace. “I'm not like you.”

“Well, yes,” Marinette agreed cautiously. “We're very different people—it's impossible to find your clone.”

The grimace didn't diminish or disappear at that, so she licked her lips nervously. The attempt at humour was out, and certainly didn't help the situation.

Tentatively, she reached up to cup his cheek softly, thumb resting on his pronounced jawline. “The Adrien I know has a problem with conversing with others, eating in the presence of company, and sleeping.” He made a noise at that, a hum that wasn't quite clear. “He's also a pretty neat person who's taking me on a date tomorrow, and if all goes well, I wouldn't mind being his girlfriend. Am I missing anything here?”

She didn't stiffen when his hand covered hers on his face. His eyes opened, eyebrows still furrowed, and looked into hers before his lips twisted into a mocking smile that looked more akin to a grimace, if it wasn't for the bitter laugh that escaped.

“You don't get it, Marinette,” he stressed, baring his teeth in a pained expression. “I'm not—I- _I'm_ —”

In a move that surprised her, Adrien stumbled and climbed out of the seat to stand up beside her and ran his hands through is hair frantically, fingers gripping painfully at the roots as he produced another breathy laugh that didn't suit him at all. Marinette stood up with shaking legs, a hand raised uncertainly how to approach or comfort the distressed male in front of her, but all that she could do was stand there pathetically and watch as he had some sort of a breakdown.

“I'm not _human_ ,” Adrien hissed, a hysterical laugh escaping his lips.

She was glad they were far apart enough so he couldn't feel her increased heartbeat. The mere fact that she was considering his maniacal words for truth proved that she needed to take a step back and realise that he was having a moment of self-loathing and definitely _not_ alluding to the fact that he wasn't the same species as she. Countless fantasy stories that authors had wrote floated through her mind, but they were all fiction—the panicking male before her was not.

So, with a deep breath, Marinette stepped closer and laid a clammy hand onto his chest. There, beneath her shaking hand, was the subtle beating of his heart that she'd been looking for.

“You're alive,” she whispered. “This beating right here is all I need to prove you're human enough.”

His hands fell from his hair, no longer gripping and almost pulling the golden strands out, and he opened his eyes with the pained expression still. “I could hurt you.”

No, she didn't think he could intentionally. “So could anyone else.”

His voice was low. “I could kill you in mere minutes.”

“Again, so could others.” Was he going to continuously attempt to convince her he wasn't right for her? Flexing her fingers upon his beating heart, noting the quickened pace that matched hers, Marinette asked, “If you're going to continue to convince me you're dangerous, I'd rather skip past that. I'm not going to believe you.”

He had to be having a delusion of sorts. There were odd things about him, certainly, but that didn't equate to him being a different species out of nowhere. When he released a shaky laugh—thankfully not tinged with a hysterical edge any longer—and ran a hand through his messy hair, she couldn't help but smile softly at the familiar movement.

“You're going to run,” Adrien started. “I'm going to show you something, and you'll _flee_.”

“No,” Marinette retorted, narrowing her eyes as her hand fell from his chest to play with her other one again. “You're going to show me something, and I'll stay right here.”

Silence fell between them. There were no guests outside to fill in the gap of the lack of noise, nor were their co-workers chattering happily together. Instead, she could hear their breaths and count the moments that passed by, worrying about the upcoming reveal that surely couldn't be enough to make her bolt and run away.

It had to be something to do with his mouth. Perhaps he'd been teased about a small feature when he was younger, and had grown with a complex about it that had led to anxiety attacks.

Adrien stared, expression conflicted and uncertain as his lips pressed into a small line. In response, she smiled in what she hoped to be a reassuring way, attempting to ease his worries.

“I won't blame you,” he whispered.

She narrowed her eyes. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Somehow, she stuck to that. Adrien had gulped visibly—the protrusion of his neck bobbing with the movement—before opening his mouth for her to peer inside with a confused expression. At first, she wasn't quite comprehending what she was seeing, then the disbelief set in and her wide eyes openly displayed her shock at the sight.

His top canine teeth had become elongated, pointier, and she knew they certainly hadn't been like that before. Although looking at teeth wasn't a hobby of hers, it was obvious when there was a gap, chip, or anything of the sort; Adrien's had been, well, normalwith no sign of the sharp teeth in sight.

All that came out was, “You don't wear fangs to work.” Because there wasn't much else she could call them.

“No,” he confirmed. Adrien had rejected them, saying they were too uncomfortable and chaffed his gums after pointing out his costume made it obvious what creature he was supposed to be.

She wanted to shake her head and deny that they had been there at all, but after talking the blond opened his mouth once more, and she watched as the two teeth retracted, resembling the usual teeth again and settling in perfectly as if nothing had been amiss.

There was still the expectation for her to leave, though. Struggling through her disbelief, denial, and shock, Marinette reached out and grasped onto the front of his t-shirt. “I'm not going,” she whispered, eyes wide, voice breathy in what she assumed to be muted panic.

If it were true—because she was not condoning the idea that he wasn't as human as she—then there still wasn't reason to distrust him. He'd had countless chances to hurt her in the past, and just because he'd revealed the secret didn't mean that he was suddenly going to attack her, especially not when there was trust built between them.

She was trying not to shatter that cherished trust and friendship as she looked up into his pained eyes. “You could've hurt me long ago, but you didn't.”

“No,” he murmured lowly, “I didn't.”

What was he expecting of her? Adrien was looking at her as though she was a wounded animal, uncertain how to approach or even move her in case of worsening the injury.

She licked her lips.

“I—what are you trying to tell me?”

Slowly, he placed his hand upon hers that was clutching his shirt, prying it from the fabric and tentatively lacing their fingers together. “I've told you before,” the blond confessed quietly. “It's—think of how I first introduced myself to you, Marinette.”

The memory was hazy at best. Marinette had smothered the awful impression to the back of her mind, and as she furrowed her brows in an attempt to remember, she idly recalled that he'd introduced himself with his job position.

Her throat felt tight. “Y-you said your costume.”

The hand within hers squeezed softly in what she hoped to be reassurance. “It's not just a costume.”

It—it was _ridiculous_. What sort of vampire would hide themselves in society by taking a job mocking what they were? They were a work of fiction that each author liked to add or changes aspects to, but the usual idea was that they consumed the blood of innocents and terrorised cities if they wished to, even with the awful side-effects to their conditions.

It felt like her heart was going to burst through her chest with how fast it was beating. There was nothing to say that the different works of fiction were absolute; there was no telling the actual side-effects to being one. She'd witnessed the health deterioration of the male before her, even the astounding display of being able to manipulate his teeth, and couldn't deny that there was something not quite right about him.

“Okay.” She let a small smile curl at her lips. “Do you still want to talk about our date, then?”

The hand within hers tightened as he looked visibly surprised. “...What?” Adrien questioned, baffled.

She knew he wouldn't hurt her. “We're going out tomorrow, remember?”

Looking as though he'd eaten something too sour, Adrien blinked rapidly. “I can't eat food, Marinette.”

Well, it wasn't much of a thought to jump to. If he had been eating in front of her previously, she would've been more surprised. “Okay,” she agreed easily, sounding somewhat dazed. “What do you eat, then?”

He stared, much like before, as if trying to deduce whether she really wanted the answer. “...Blood.” The eventual answer was low, almost inaudible.

“Not very much of it, obviously,” the dark-haired female remarked, heart still beating violently within her chest. The hand within his was clammy from her nervous, but not fear. Just like with her argument that he hadn't hurt her before, when she said that he hadn't drained her aloud, he was visibly baffled.

Adrien shook his head in disbelief, not believing her reaction. There was no point asking if he needed sleep; the yawns, bags underneath his eyes and the nap he'd taken upon her had proved that his body was compatible with it. When she expressed her confusion that he'd disappeared while covering his mouth, the blond self-consciously fiddled with the hairs on his nape as she squeezed their intertwined fingers in reassurance. As it turned out, when he was asleep or his emotions got the better of him, the control of his fangs was hard to control.

The alleyway part was what caused her the most panic. When she brought it up once more, stating that she'd found him slumped against the wall after hearing a suspicious noise, the terror she was feeling must've shown on her face. Adrien grimaced, looking wholly in pain as he tried to separate their intertwined hands and create distance between them from what he probably assumed to be disgust rather than concern. She—she'd thought he'd been hurt because of the discarded cell phone when she'd been purposefully strolling through the streets to catch a glimpse of him like the last night.

His hand dropped from hers as he took a step back after he'd asked what she was afraid of. Without realising the implications of his previous words, the dark-haired female fearfully explained the reports of the lurker that hadn't upgraded to assault, yet still instilled fear in the hearts of those that walked the streets late at night.

“Think about it, Marinette,” he whispered in a strained voice. “I—I need blood to survive, and hospitals aren't going to just supply it to me.”

Her throat felt thick. “No,” she choked out, face becoming as pale as her smeared lips. “T-there's been no attacks.”

No attacks because none had been successful; either he hadn't been able to complete the deed, instead lurked the night and felt too guilty to act upon his survival instincts, but surely it was hurting. The deterioration of his health proved that—he wasn't consuming the intended amount and weakening himself, stalking the streets in an attempt to stay alive.

“Have...” Marinette sucked in a pained breath, lips curling downwards without her permission as her eyes began to feel dry once more. “I-I _need_ to know. Have you—” She was so close to exploding into loud sobs that she couldn't control, denial running through her thoughts and wanting to forgot that he'd proposed the awful idea at all. The sweet male that she'd come to care for, he—he _couldn't_ be the one instilling terror in the hearts of citizens, even her own when she walked the streets late at night.

“No,” Adrien breathed, and she felt her heart beat painfully in her chest. “Not yet.”

Tears of distress filled her vision, blurring the view of his pained and ashamed expression as he looked away and self-consciously clasped his elbow. Even from the endearing gesture couldn't distract her from his words—not _yet—_ and she wanted to scream, shout, demand that it wasn't the right thing to do and that he just _couldn't_ succumb to the evil deed, but—

He had to.

Fuck, she was _not_ condoning murder—she couldn't even watch a neighbour's cat eat a mouse without feeling sorry for the poor thing. She could see how choked up and pained Adrien was about the subject but telling him not to would solve nothing. He was already starving himself, most likely that was what was causing his sleep pattern to be so poor, too.

“You were healthy.” His eyes flickered to connect with hers for a moment before looking away once more, avoiding contact. “When we started working together, you—you were fine. What happened?”

His eyes closed as a the pained expression became more pronounced. “I... I had someone who cared for me.” His voice was hoarse, low, and utterly defeated. “My mother.”

It was the second time he'd ever mentioned her.

“She passed away around the time you were angry at me,” Adrien whispered. “I—she stored her blood away for me, so I wouldn't have to bite her.”

It was unclear whether it was considered an intimate action or if he'd kill her in some way. Adrien was _not_ a monster, and the mere though that his mother had protected him, sheltered him from a life of bloody messes and murder by opening her own vein, had the tears flowing freely from her eyes. Marinette hastily wiped them, keeping the sobs or the sounds of heavy breathing from escaping her frowning lips.

“It's ran out,” she stated with a shaking voice. “You've been rationing yourself, and trying to take the step of finding another source.”

Rather than reply verbally, Adrien nodded with an expression of self-loathing.

His mother couldn't have died of blood loss. The lack of murders or the bodies in the hospitals with their blood missing, proved that he didn't know what he was doing, meaning she'd cared for him for his whole life until she'd passed away. There had been love and understanding in their relationship, and the fact that he was revealing all of this to _her_ and expecting her to flee and run away meant that he wanted to trust her.

He was reaching out uncertainly to his best ability.

Marinette wiped her tears forcefully, nose red and cheeks flushed from the noise of her sniffling, and took a step in his direction.

As expected, Adrien backed away, walking backwards and avoiding her gaze until he connected with the table behind him.

She stepped forward until their shoes were touching, blinking to keep the liquid at bay. “Adrien,” she breathed, trying to coax him to look at her. When he adamantly kept his gaze away, Marinette raised a shaking hand to his jaw, forcefully turning his head and repeated, “Adrien.”

The self-loathing was clear across his expression. There was no sign of the kind-hearted smile that was usually across his lips, and the sunken cheeks and darkened skin beneath his eyes made him appear terribly unhealthy.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

She could barely hear him swallow audibly over the noise of her rapidly beating heart.

“You can have mine,” Marinette proclaimed, nervously licking her lips. “I—if I do this, you won't have to hurt anyone.”

A sigh escaped his lips as he gently shook his head. “No.”

Pushing his face to face her once more, Marinette narrowed her watery eyes. “I'm not saying this because I feel like I have to—I _want_ to.”

His expression was conflicted. His viridian-coloured eyes stayed focused on hers, and she hoped somehow that her sincerity was being displayed. “Why?”

“Well, we can't have you collapsing before our date.” The humour fell flat, not even a twitch of his lips from her words, but she wasn't surprised. “I know you; I trust you,” Marinette confessed softly, fingertips brushing across his skin as she dropped her hand. “You wouldn't hurt me.”

The question he asked had her biting her lower lip. “Why aren't you scared of me?”

It would've been a lie to say she wasn't afraid, but he wasn't of him; he'd had multiple chances to do so in the past, and it was the thought of opening her vein, either extracting the blood with a tube or allowing it to drip into a container that had her feeling nauseous. There was bound to be pain—perhaps a lot—if he pierced her skin with the teeth he could control at will.

“Living in fear wouldn't get me very far,” she replied quietly, sniffing loudly and wishing for a tissue. “You trusted me with this, and I'm not going to betray that by freaking out.”

“You should be running away,” the blond murmured.

Her lips stretched into a half smile. “And shouldn't you be draining multiple victims? No one does what you expect them to, Adrien.”

There was fondness in his expression as he looked at her. “I'm beginning to see that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com/) (っ˘ω˘ς )❤


	2. 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I expected! The original idea of this story was supposed to be about whether Adrien's just really weird or if he's really a vampire. There was supposed to be a scene with him trying to drink coconut water instead of blood since the internet said he could, and other strange things. Thank you for the love and support.
> 
> \- ̗̀art ̖́- [aoirin](http://aoirin.tumblr.com/post/173994145701), [flutter](http://artisticflutter.tumblr.com/post/163183488241).

  _Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

When Marinette found herself alone in her small apartment, there wasn't a trace of panic. She didn't tug at the roots of her hair, make distressed noises or wonder whether it was a dream. After she awoke the next morning, she remembered how it had happened perfectly, not for a moment believing herself to be insane. It explained everything about him; the isolated relationships, his deteriorating health, and the awkward way he interacted in the beginning.

They arranged a meeting on the weekend after a lot of persuasion on her part. Adrien was wary, expecting her to pull away and take the offer away. Her words convinced him in the end, along with an awkward embrace that wasn't because she was worried for his well-being, and she promptly dressed and waited outside out the apartment building for him to appear.

He lived in a quaint house with an overgrown front garden, hanging plants that were wilted, net curtains in the window to give a homely appearance that would've belonged in a story book if it wasn't for the lack of care given to it lately. Adrien nervously lead her inside, revealing the wooden floors, knitted blanket resting on the back of the couch, and pleasant-looking trinkets scattered around the house. The fireplace was unused, kitchen forgotten as the countertops had began to gather dust, and the second floor was untouched other than his bedroom.

“Your home is lovely,” she said honestly.

His answering smile was sad. “My mother would've been proud to hear that.”

It was stiff, awkward and uncomfortable to try and sort out how it was going to happen. Marinette insisted she was fine with whichever method he chose, as he knew best, and the blond was adamant that he wouldn't use his teeth—he hadn't yet and wanted to keep it that way.

It was strangely clinical. They decided to draw the blood like they did in hospitals, revealing the equipment that was safely and cleanly stored away since it was how his mother had done in the past. Adrien kneeled in front of her, an upset expression across his face that no amounts of reassurance could smooth out his features, and drew the scarlet liquid from her veins in a purely professional fashion. There was no inkling that he was hungry for it, no uncontrollable urges that dominated his calm nature. Her eyes stayed focused on him even when the needle was removed—how grateful she was that she wasn't squeamish—and he applied the aftercare that was needed.

They left it unsaid that he wouldn't drink it in front of her.

“Are you sure this'll be enough?” Marinette questioned, looking at his back as he wiped the countertops (having apologised and only just realised that they weren't in pristine condition). “I'd be fine to give more, I think. I'm not feeling dizzy.”

According to him, she didn't have to supply much. His mother had experimented over the years to find the perfect amount that wouldn't weaken him, or her in turn, so they were following that advice. She'd left behind a journal documenting their research, a tattered little book with a frayed ribbon to mark the pages, that Adrien kept close and kept tabs on. It was more than the recommended amount for blood donation due to the shorter downtime, though not enough to cause her to feel sluggish or tired.

When she remarked that it was perfect that she wasn't scared of blood, Adrien's flat look made her laugh.

Their date was postponed until he was healthy by her insistence. They gave each other happy smiles during work, brushing their hands lightly in the break-rooms, sat closer together during their lunches where Marinette tried to describe the food to her best ability. When she scrunched her facial features together in frustration once from being unable to choose the correct words, the blond male took pity on her and tentatively explained that his sense of taste was fine, that the food didn't settle in his stomach and resulted in vomit; so, she didn't need to worry about how to describe the spices as though she was talking to someone allergic to them.

She took to asking questions out of the blue, never too many at once, with the intention of getting to know him better.

When they were adding the finishing touches to their costumes in the morning, Marinette asked, “So everyone can see you in the mirror, right? The room at work would be a mess otherwise. Guests would turn around and scream when they see you for something other than your good looks.”

Baffled, Adrien's lipstick smudged and tarnished his pale skin. “Why wouldn't they be able to?”

“...How many vampire books have you read?” she enquired, voice shaking from restrained laughter. “Did you do no research for this job? For shame, Adrien.”

The first question gave him a new hobby. Their first outing together—other than his home where she was still convinced belonged in a story book due to the picturesque quality it had to it—was to a large book-store in the middle of a shopping centre. Marinette kept his clammy hand clasped in hers despite the heat, taking the initiative and navigating through the crowds that made him continuously uncomfortable.

There had been the question of how their dates would go—Marinette insisted she'd feel too awkward to sit in a café or restaurant and be the only one to eat, and absolutely refused to allow him to consume some just to excuse himself to the bathroom to throw up in private to keep up appearances. They came to the agreement for her to use either her kitchen or his for her own dinner, with him adamantly refusing to let her watch him. Her blood was stored away out of sight, only visible when it was drawn, and the only confirmation that he was drinking it was from the dulling shadows beneath his eyes.

“Are you sure we'll find some here?” Adrien voiced his doubts as they walked through the aisles, cringing as he bumped into a stranger and almost lost his balance. “I could just buy them, you know, online.”

Her smile reached her cerulean eyes. “Where's the fun in that? A date on the computer together usually involves silly or erotic videos, not looking at books for sale.”

He blinked. “Well, if you're sure.”

“Trust me.” Marinette winked as they found the section she was looking for. “There's bound to be a couple of smutty ones to entice you. I'm looking forward to hearing how ridiculous they are.”

They searched through the books, piling them up within their hands as they'd forgone the basket, finding the different summaries and images on the covers amusing. A few teenagers had joined then, causing Adrien to shuffle closer to her with an awkward smile. Her thoughts about his behaviour had fondness in them, and she wasn't shy about showing her happiness. When their hands were intertwined as they left the book-store, Marinette squeezed gentle and brushed her shoulder against him as they walked, glad that he wasn't upset about their closeness.

“Do you want to buy something for dinner?” the blond asked, capturing her attention. “You can come over, if you want to.”

As much as she wanted to, she had to reject the offer. When she expressed her regret and said they could maybe do that the next time, she released a breath of amusement through her nose at his dejected expression. She'd promised to spend time with Alya that evening beforehand, and it seemed too short notice to cancel that because of their prolonged date.

It had been fun, though. Marinette had enjoyed his silly comments, the expressions he made as he flipped through the books, especially when he offered to buy any of her choosing as a thank you for showing him.

She wanted to kiss him, to show her fondness through actions other than their clasped hands.

When she gently kissed his cheek, beside the corner of his mouth that was tempting, Marinette grinned widely as his eyes widened and colour blossomed along his prominent cheekbones. It turned out that when he was embarrassed, the tips of his ears turned pink, too.

Surprisingly, he didn't resort to pick-up lines from the internet to woo her. Adrien used his kind smiles that made her cheeks feel hot, caring gestures as he made sure she was feeling fine in the heat, or when she was sat in his living room after blood had been taken. There was constant concern as he fluttered around her in the break-room, offering to buy her lunch, coffee, anything she wanted if she so much as looked in the direction of something pretty.

Marinette denied the presents, happy to sit beside him as they spent their time together. The questions didn't bewilder him as much as they had in the beginning, though his expressions were still amusing to watch. Adrien would scrunch his nose in disgust, laugh aloud from the ridiculousness or even look at her as they she was the one that had made them up.

“Does the sun damage you in any way?”

He knitted his eyebrows together at that one, gaze looking above to the blinding orb in the sky. “The same as anyone else? I wear sunscreen if I have to work outside since I have sensitive skin—before you ask, my _human_ mother had it, too.”

The offered information was another thing to add to the mysteries of his life. Adrien hadn't mentioned whether it was possible to consume another vampire's blood, and she'd blindly assumed that to be what his mother was due to their relation. The sudden realisation that perhaps he hadn't always been this way caused her eyes to widen, cutlery not leaving her container as she wondered how to approach that subject. Asking outright whether his life had been altered by another, which caused his mother to cater to his specific needs from love and affection, didn't seem the appropriate type of conversation to have in the middle of the day, in an amusement park nonetheless.

After their shifts, she asked, “Can I only kill you with a stake through the heart? I don't know any shops that sell them, and I don't want to make one myself by sawing a leg off of my furniture.”

“Are you planning to put me down or something?” Adrien narrowed his eyes, the upturned corner of his lips portraying his amusement. “That would work on anyone. I can die from a heart attack, drowning and, yes, fire. Anything that can damage you will cause the same effect on me.”

“Ouch,” she mused, surprised by the readily offered information. “How do you know this?”

Shrugging his shoulders vaguely, the blond replied, “I can get cut by paper, suffer from illnesses and just about anything else. Other than my specific diet, we're pretty much the same.”

“So I _can_ kill you by injecting air into your veins?” Marinette asked, looking at him suspiciously as she remembered the beating of his heart. “You breathe and _everything_?”

Reaching over to tap her nose lightly, Adrien released a breathy laugh. “You're ridiculous, did you know that?”

She grinned. “Thank you, I think.”

In much the same fashion, it became apparent that he wasn't lying. Adrien had laughed when she asked if he was born with his fangs already there, stating how dangerous and awful that would be as a baby. He grew teeth much the same as others—the fangs even fell out as a child to be replaced with adult teeth, ones which were sharper and longer—and there wasn't phenomenal physical strength that separated him apart from humans.

“My features are purely genetics, I can assure you,” Adrien proclaimed proudly, happily accepting the attention at the amusement park. “I didn't come out of the womb this dashing—baby me wasn't a looker.”

That's where she had some questions. Marinette kept them at bay, sticking to the harmless ones that were featured in books—garlic didn't keep him away more than any other pungent scent—until he stopped tensing when she brought up the subject. They had known each other for almost eleven months when she invited him to her apartment for the evening. It wasn't the quaint home that he lived in; she couldn't hide the cracks, or the thin walls where they could hear her neighbours shouting or the upstairs levels stomping around.

He didn't make fun of where she lived, though he noted that it could be dangerous at night and that the nearby alleyways had a ton of graffiti on them, some which were recently dried. Marinette had cooked her food beforehand, having planned to eat it before he arrived. He offered to select a film to watch on her laptop while she ate, leaving her in peace on her stool tucked under the countertop, almost burning her tongue from the food.

They had settled down on the sofa together when fast knocks sounded on her front door. Marinette looked visibly confused before she apologised, opening the door to see a red-faced Alya with her hair sticking to her face.

“Gosh, I thought you weren't home!” she said quickly, sounding out of breath. “I really need some eggs, you have some, right? Nino somehow managed to take my wallet with him today and I promised to bake a cake for my co-workers, and—well, _please_?”

She had to laugh. “Come on in.”

Alya was familiar with her home, so she walked through quickly, collected a few eggs from the fridge and wrapped them safely in the material of her shirt, showing off the skin of her midriff.

“You're a lifesaver, Mari,” the bespectacled female thanked her with a bright smile. It was only when she'd turned to head towards the door when she realised there was someone else in the room. “ _Oh_ ,” was what eloquently came out as Alya looked between the two of them before she burst into honest laughter.

“...Hi?” Adrien said, confused by her chortles. “Alya, right?”

“You bet,” the red-haired female replied, adjusting her make-shift egg pouch. “I'll leave you two lovebirds to your date, but first—”

Marintte watched with raised eyebrows as Alya shuffled closer to them, leaning down to whisper in his ear with a wide grin that spelled trouble, before excusing herself after she'd winked one too many times. From the colour along his cheeks as he shifted on the couch, she assumed whatever had been uttered had been something creative that shouldn't have been there.

The film had her eyes drooping shut from a mixture of disinterest and tiredness, and much like she'd done for him in the past, Adrien let her sleep through most of it. The dark-haired female awoke to loud sounds at the end—the first song of the credits—and blinked sleepily, aware of the arm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her from falling over. The corner of his evergreen eyes were upturned from his smile, dimples visible on his almost healthy-looking cheeks.

The evening ended with another kiss to his cheek, closer to his lips.

From Alya's insistence, the four of them went out to dinner at a local restaurant. Marinette had tried to wriggle her way out of it, claiming that the blond had several allergies so he ate his food at home where it was safe, and she'd waved it off and said it would be a bonding experience rather than just for the offered food. As it turned out, Nino and Adrien had become fast friends after Adrien had uttered a ridiculous pun that had Marinette rolling her eyes, only to cause Nino to choke on his mouthful of water and cause a scene from his mixture of coughing and laughter. It was a pleasant response to his jokes if the spluttering was ignored—when Nino looked up with a grin to appreciate the blond's sense of humour, that was when Marinette's eyes met Alya's across the table.

The remainder of the evening was a mixture of bad humour from the two of them, while she and Alya attempted to drown them out. It was nice to see that they were willing friends at the end, exchanging phone numbers with the promise to meet up to spend time together.

After the couple had split apart, Adrien was the one to speak up first as they walked down the street. “You're my first friend, now I feel like I just left with two more.”

There was a twinge of sadness from his words. She covered her reaction, choosing instead to swing their intertwined hands with enthusiasm. “That's good! Nino's a great guy, and Alya's honestly one of my closest friends. Thank you for sitting through the dinner.”

“It was fine,” he said with a laugh, wriggling his fingers to get comfortable. “There was enough conversation during the meals so it wasn't too awkward. I do feel guilty about almost killing Nino.”

She snorted. “With a purely human technique, too. Consider me impressed.”

“Rude.” He laughed. “I feel like I don't deserve you, you know? Nothing I say seems to phase you in the slightest.”

That was a lie. She hadn't had the thought to cower in fear; instead the main emotions during their odd friendship had been concern and sympathy for his condition. “I care about your happiness, not whether you can eat with me. It's kind of nice not to have a boyfriend that steals the food from my plate, actually. I'm rather territorial about that.”

That earned a breathy chortle from him that was wonderful to hear.

“Can you tell me about how you grew up?” Marinette asked softly, turning the corner and tracing the steps back to his home from memory. The night was still early, so they'd decided to return to his to watch a film (one that wasn't involving vampires, as he wasn't ready to branch out away from the multiple books that were still unread). “You don't have to tell me if it's too much trouble.”

He inhaled audibly. “I... I guess I can, yeah.”

As he spoke, his voice was soft and filled with emotions, a smile creeping onto his expression when he mentioned how his mother hummed when she used to tuck him into bed as a child, how she sang silly rhymes to get him to do the chores. The tales of his kind-hearted mother were told with happiness in his voice, dimples showing as he told her how he tried to cook for her birthday each year, fondly telling her that his mother would try the dishes no matter how awful they looked.

There was longing in his voice, too. It was clear that he missed her; she was the caretaker, the one that had looked over him for all of his life since his father was out of the picture. There wasn't much to say about him—Adrien glossed over their names, explaining that he'd been told heroic tales of his blond-haired father as he grew up, not realising that they were different.

“He's where I inherited this gene from,” Adrien explained as they crossed the threshold into his home, the light on the porch highlighting the wilted flowers. “I think it's a string of mutations. There's hasn't been any research on it since there's so little of us.”

The thought of him being experimented on didn't sit well in her stomach. “Wouldn't that only make you half?”

“No.” Shaking his head, the golden strands fell out of place. They settled down on the couch after she grabbed a glass of water for something to hold. “It's like eye colour; there's a chance of having your parents' or not, no matter how small. That tiny percent is what causes this, so it's full-blooded and not a diluted mutation of it.”

Accepting the information, Marinette shifted on the sofa as she asked softly, “Do you know what happened to your father? I'm not trying to pry—well, I _am_ , yes—”

“It's fine, Marinette,” Adrien assured, corner of his lips upturned. “He died before I was born from a car crash. I'm just thankful that he was honest about what he was so my mother didn't have to figure everything out by herself.”

It was helpful, indeed. The thought of a child's body rejecting food was terrifying, especially when it would've been discovered that there was something different about him. Adrien's mother had the knowledge beforehand; she knew what she was getting into, and it didn't stop her from loving him.

Would it be inappropriate to kiss him? Marinette's eyes flickered across his expression, fondness leaking into her own as she took in the soft curve of his lips, the half-closed eyes as he stared at a framed photograph across the room. He was visibly healthier, not the prime condition he'd had when they'd met, with the supplied blood helping him through the days.

“How did they meet?” she questioned, wondering whether his father had been as convinced he was an oddity as Adrien was. “I'm curious how long he dated your mother before she realised something was amiss also. It took me too long to notice you didn't drink anything—that's what gave you away.”

“Darn,” he replied with a laugh. “I'm not sure on the details. I know he took her to a fancy restaurant and ended up vomiting at the table since there was a queue for the toilets.”

With a grin, Marinette laughed. “How romantic.”

With cheeks flushed from the cold wind in the evening, she was able to admire the side profile of his face, noting that the cheeks had filled out nicely and no longer looked sunken. There was no denying that he was attractive to look at—when Adrien noticed her attention and looked towards her, tilting his head in a silent question, she didn't resist the large smile that fluttered across her lips. The endearing movements, the curve of his lips as he smiled, the bright eyes that crinkled at the corners... Marinette's heart beat faster as she realised she was overjoyed that they were directed at her; for _her_.

“Adrien,” she breathed, placing the glass on a nearby surface.

His eyebrows raised in response.

Shifting closer, she tentatively placed a hand on his thigh to gauge his reaction before shifting closer, bodies pressed together on the sofa as she leaned in. His emerald eyes widened from the advance, golden-stained lashes noticeable when he blinked rapidly. There was something innocent to the action and it had her smile reaching her eyes.

Able to feel his breath, the hot air caressing her skin as she leaned closer, Marinette asked softly, “Can I kiss you?”

She watched as he licked his lips. “You don't need to ask.” His voice was quiet with a hoarse quality to it.

There wasn't a electric current running through her skin, nor fireworks sounding to portray their explosive reactions, when their lips softly pressed together. Their movements were clumsy, gentle, and tentative, wanting each other to enjoy the experience despite the clashing of teeth at times. Marinette grasped onto the material of his shirt when her eyes had fluttered closed, soft breaths escaping as they continued.

Adrien was uncertain at first; it was only when she leaned in, daring to apply more pressure on their intertwined bodies, that he opened up and unlocked his stiff muscles. She smiled as an arm was lazily wrapped around her waist for comfort, pleased when he produced a breathy laugh in response. They weren't needy or bruising each other—Marinette cherished every soft gesture, enjoying the feeling of him pressed against her as her pulse thrummed loudly within her head.

Their breaths were heated, growing louder and more sporadic as time went on. The grip on his shirt tightened as she welcomed the coiling pleasure within her abdomen, shifting her pressed together thighs in acknowledgement. With a jolt of confidence, the dark-haired female languidly trailed her tongue along his lower lip, seeking permission to further their advances.

She wasn't surprised when he pulled away. Opening her eyes lazily, Marinette saw the panicked expression that flickered across his face, the hand covering his mouth from the reaction she hadn't thought of him happen.

To show him she didn't mind, she murmured with a smile, “Isn't it a silent compliment that your body's reacting like this?”

Endearingly, the blond's eyebrows knitted together briefly, visible from the strands of hair brushed aside, as his hand fell away to no longer cover his mouth. It was an act of trust, she knew. If she hadn't known what she was looking for, she wouldn't have noticed how his upper lip jutted out more because of the change of his teeth; they didn't stick out of his mouth as she'd perhaps expected when his face was lax with his mouth closed, though she could understand his paranoia.

“You're the strangest person I've ever met,” he remarked, voice hoarse.

Adrien cleared his throat as she laughed in fondness of his reactions.

“It's the equivalent of an erection, right?” Blood rushed to her face when she realised what she'd said—Adrien looked equally stunned, eyes widened in surprise and lips parted silently. “I—I mean, you know, you can't _control_ it. I-I'm not thinking about that part of your body—well, not _now_. Oh, I'm rambling.”

Embarrassed, she'd planned to hide her face in her hands until the colour dissipated. The plan was thwarted as his raised a hand to cradle her jaw with a smile, an amused breath escaping as he leaned forward to press a firm kiss to her lips before withdrawing. His hand stayed as she looked at him, shocked, and traced soft patterns into her skin with his thumb.

The tops of Adrien's cheeks reached his eyes as he smiled. “You're adorable, did you know that?”

The elongated canines were visible as he smiled, looking out of place but not threatening within his happy expression. There wasn't fear from seeing them again—she knew that he hadn't willingly used them. As she looked at him, taking in the reddened lips that were her doing rather than the make-up from work, happiness and affection coiled within her chest and abdomen, reinforcing the sheer feeling of fondness she felt for him. There had always been something there—irritating curiosity and concerns had evolved into feelings that had her cheeks burning when a bright smile was directed her way.

“I think I love you,” Marinette blurted, surprised at her own forwardness.

The hand on her face stiffened before the gentle ministrations resumed. His expression could only be described as soft and affectionate as he replied, “I am pretty great.”

She tightened her grip on his thigh, a lopsided smile appearing as he laughed aloud.

-x-

They started dating officially after that night. Adrien shyly informed Mireille about their relationship when he was questioned one morning, resulting in a loud gasp and excited chatter before he ducked out to continue his work. The news spread around surprisingly fast; when she attended the guest count dinner—their section lost that time—the higher-ups expressed their best wishes for the both of them to her (Adrien had chosen not to attend because of food allergies, having admitted that he'd came to the last just to see her).

Nino had kept his word and contacted Adrien after their dinner together, and their friendship kicked off from there. The blond confessed that he thought maybe Alya was pressuring him to be his friend at first, but that was quickly debunked when the red-head complained that when the four of them were together, Nino would ignore her for his new friend. They didn't meet up for a meal at a restaurant again, choosing instead to spend evenings in each other's homes (other than Adrien's).

The couple had moved out after Nino proposed with the help of Adrien, surprisingly. Adrien was more than happy to try and set up the perfect situation for them, coming up with different ideas and shooting them off before they decided it would be best to be casual and simple, as over-the-top wouldn't suit their relationship. The two moved into a house thirty minutes away, located in a much better neighbourhood than their previous one. Marinette was left being only slightly friendly with her neighbours, never having befriended them other than to write a few notes on the noticeboard.

Adrien was happy to prattle about his mother when they were alone, only avoiding the questions about how his parents met. It was understandable; he hadn't grown up with them to hear tales of it from anyone other than his mother, yet there was something there that was bothering her.

One evening as they were watching something together, cuddled up in Marinette's bed as the laptop was balanced on a chair beside them, she asked, “What did you mean when you said seeing me was enough when we met?”

“I meant just that,” he replied evenly, not meeting her eyes. “Are you still convinced I'm only lusting after you? If so, I don't know whether to laugh or cry.”

“No,” the dark-haired female replied, bumping her shoulder affectionately against his, causing the duvet to rustle loudly beneath them. “It's just... confusing. You said yourself that you kept away from people, crowds, and even avoided going to school because of it. Why did you decide to start working?” Adrien had readily told her about his tutors over the course of his childhood, effectively keeping away from the busy atmosphere of schools.

With a half-hearted chortle, Adrien raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head. “It's taken you a year to ask why I'm working?”

“I know you don't need the money.” That much was true; his parents had come from wealthy families and his father had accumulated his own wealth that was still steadily flowing, being transferred to Adrien's name after his mother's death. “What kind of an idiot hides in plain sight anyway? You should've signed up to be the werewolf or something.”

The laugh she received was genuine. “It seemed appropriate, okay—Mother gave her approval and everything. If I lose control then I can cover it up with the costume,” Adrien explained with humour in his voice. “It's the perfect plan.”

“Absolutely,” she deadpanned. “You could even lure guests into the dark to bite them if you get peckish.”

“See.” Adrien grinned. “Now you're getting it. No one suspects the vampire to actually be one.” With that said, she wondered whether she was going to get a straight answer until he uttered, “I figured it was time to be around people. It led me to meeting you, so I'm thankful.”

Forgetting the playing video, the voices blending together as she focused on the male beside her, Marinette shifted on the mattress upon she was on her side, head propped up against the stack of excessive pillows as she looked at him in wonder. She'd questioned his unchanging affections to herself before, debunking the confession of love and proclaiming it to be lust in the past; gazing at him, knowing the soft kisses and the gentle caresses were just for her had her heart pounding.

She licked her lips. “I'm still not understanding.”

“Do you—” Adrien sucked in a breath, a half-hearted smile on his lips as he ran his fingers through the tresses of golden hair at the nape of his neck. “This might sound quite... I don't know, weird, I guess?”

In return, she hummed to prompt him along.

With a nervous expression, along with the self-conscious gesture of touching his hair or neck that she'd seen multiple times, he continued in a quiet voice, “Do you ever find your eyes on me without realising it?”

“Sure,” Marinette replied easily, sitting up and stretching her arms with a pleased noise. “I don't understand what's so weird about that. I watched you a lot while worrying about your health before—I do now because you make cute faces when you realise I am.” She grinned at the last, rewarded with a half-hearted scoff in response. “Am I not supposed to or something? You don't naturally repel humans from what I can tell.”

Matching her position, Adrien rolled his shoulders as he straightened out. “I _wish_ I could repel everyone. It would be much easier then.”

“You're just a bundle of awkwardness.”

“Thank you for that lovely compliment,” the blond replied dryly, smile across his lips. “I—well, there's something weird about what I am, other than the whole blood thing.” He clasped his hands together, linking the fingers nervously. “Do you remember what I said about my mother's advice?”

Blinking in surprise, Marinette nodded. She could recall it easily—she'd quoted his mother's words while enquiring for more information not so long ago. “Yes?”

“That's...” He cleared his throat, eyes flickering between hers before settling down. “That's how my parents found each other—my father only needed to see her to know.”

Tilting her head quizzically, she blurted, “Are you trying to convince me you're psychic? I'm already dating a vampire, I don't think I can handle much more without feeling incredibly inferior.”

The laugh that escaped him was honest, sudden, and loud. “No,” Adrien said, voice shaking from his chuckles. “There's just something about you that draws me in. I don't feel the need to shy away from you like I do with everyone else—I think that's why my confidence was misplaced along with my flirting techniques in the beginning. Seeing you had me taken aback at first.”

“Okay,” she readily agreed, bobbing her head. “Is this connection supposed to go both ways?”

“It can,” the blond answered, licking his lips. “My grandmother couldn't, although my mother could. It's just a... I don't know how to describe it properly. I'm just unconsciously drawn to you without realising it.”

She couldn't say for certain. Back when they hadn't been friends with each other—over half a year ago, what leaps their relationship had taken since then—she'd found herself watching him during work, checking on his health and wondering whether he was feeling okay. There wasn't an unconscious push to move closer to him, to converse or touch him, which caused her to ask for the details of the pull.

Adrien tentatively explained that it wasn't something that could overwrite their feelings—it was an attraction that could be ignored and pushed aside if wished. If the target of their unknowing affections was a bad person, they wouldn't smother the negative feelings with the pull or be out of control.

“It's just a guide to find you,” he confessed softly, looking at her with a fond expression. “It doesn't cause false love or force me to be with you; this is purely from choice. I'm in love with you because of you, not because I gravitate towards you.”

“Oh,” was all she could reply, astounded with the sudden information. It added up well into a flattering picture that had her cheeks burning; Adrien was able to push aside his anxieties to talk and be with her, trusting her enough to confess the truth behind the sudden attraction. “Is this a you've got to be with me until you die thing?”

He laughed quietly. “It could be if our relationship is healthy. There's nothing stopping us from breaking up and finding other partners—I just know that I have the potential to be happy with you, if that's what we want.”

Blinking, Marinette stuttered, “W-well—” Taking a deep breath, she tried to quell the warmth from her cheeks. “You do grow old, right? You're not going to stop ageing randomly?”

A warm laugh erupted from him, surprising her with the sudden reaction. “I do, of course.” Adrien grinned, reaching his emerald eyes. “I can get ill and everything, remember? I'm just as pathetic as everyone else.”

“That's good to know.” She returned the smile, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “It's hard to be afraid of you—all I see when I look at you is your smile, then I remember your awful jokes and any fear I had gets squashed by exasperation.”

It wasn't a surprise that he leaned forward to take her lips into his affectionately, hand cupping her jaw in a caress as her eyes fluttered closed. They still nicked their teeth at times when they moved too quickly, or stumbled as they tried to sit down rather than having her stand on the tips of her toes because of their height difference. Whenever she mentioned how human he seemed, how he wasn't different to everything else, his reactions evolved into the same—he either swept her into a tight embrace, sometimes a brief one since they were at work, or kissed her with passion that had suddenly been ignited.

Marinette hummed in happiness and approval as he rested against the mattress, coaxing her on top with her legs on either side as his lips parted as a silent invitation. Despite the initial panic he'd had because of his teeth, he was able to hold out for longer before the reaction kicked in, sometimes allowing their kiss to continue until he became too self-conscious. A bubble of warmth stirred in her abdomen, pulse thundering as their tongues intertwined intimately. The hand cradling her jaw, that had been idly tracing soothing patterns into her skin, relocated to tangle within the dark-coloured tresses of her hair.

Her noises of pleasure were muffled, hushed breaths that were coming out as pants the sound between them. When Marinette confidently shifted her hips, allowing a short burst of friction as his clothed arousal brushed against hers.

Their movements turned somewhat lazy, less pressure as they retreated with damp and reddened lips that were purely each other's doing, shy smiles and flushed cheeks as they regained their breaths.

He had explained before that he couldn't control his teeth when his emotions were strong—be it anger, lust, or anything of the sort, therefore when their interactions became too heated, he was self-conscious despite the fact that she constantly reassured him that she was _fine_. There wasn't the worry that he'd bite her—he hadn't done so before in his life—and the way he avoided her gaze with an ashamed expression after his teeth morphed made concern bubble within her. It was an unsaid rule that if they moved further, allowed their hands to wander intimately, then he'd break away from the kiss, but not shy away from her.

The first morning after they'd slept beside each other had resulted in him trying to shy away and hide so he could return to what he deemed as normal. Marinette had scooted over, peppering kisses across his exposed skin until he calmed down, not filling in the silence with conversation. Her self-appointed mission was to make him feel comfortable as he was, no matter how hard that seemed to be. When Adrien needed a moment to calm down, even if they were in the middle of work or alone in each other's living rooms, she complied and showed that it was no problem by not retreating.

“I'm your soulmate, aren't I?” Marinette questioned, bumping her nose against his briefly with a fond smile.

The blond blinked, looking flabbergasted for a moment before his expression morphed into one of happiness; smile reaching his bright eyes with dimples on display. “If you want to call it that, yes. That's a pretty good description.”

“I'm honoured.” She grinned widely. “How about I show you just how appreciative I am?”

Adrien laughed fondly, the sound muffled by her lips on his.

-x-

They stole intimate moments between their shifts at work, spent the evenings in each other's houses, and messaged each other on the odd days that they were apart (from her being adamant that they wouldn't rely on the other for everything). When Adrien discovered why she'd been hired to tailor their costumes, he was pleasantly shocked and kept pointing to different creations he was fond of on her website. Somehow, it had escaped his mind to ask about it beforehand—she created the clothing to sell on her site in peace, not trusting herself with a needle with someone beside her talking—and had only questioned it when she'd left her laptop open on her site.

Marinette happily told him that it was her dream to have her own clothing line, saying the silly fantasies she'd had as a child, or when she'd chosen her decisions for higher education, with a proud smile that she'd been able to accomplish anything at all. Her blog was still up and running, selling occasional outfits that she'd designed in her free time to earn extra money; which was still adding up nicely from the steady popularity that she'd acquired over the years.

“Are you planning to quit?” the blond asked one evening, interrupting their laughter from their co-worker's antics earlier that day. “I'd understand, really. It's not the dream job for most, and over a quarter of the park have been replaced so far.”

He was right with saying that. Marinette made a humming noise, unsure of how to reply—it was true that she'd never imagined herself to hold the job for long, let alone over a year.

She licked her lips. “Eventually, I suppose. If something more promising pops up, otherwise this is fun, even if my skin feels gross after I take the make-up off afterwards.”

Laughing, he wholly agreed and said that his lips felt chapped until he'd found the right brand.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” the dark-haired female asked softly, resting her weight against his side, chin perched upon his shoulder comfortably. “I wanted to be a veterinarian until I realised I wasn't too bad with a needle for other purposes.”

“I'm not really sure,” he replied, contemplative clear in his tone. “There was a phase where I wanted to be an actor, but that was a complete fantasy. It would be too open and cause too much worry, so I kind of just... I accepted that I wouldn't have too many choices.”

She wouldn't show the welling concern that she felt for him; the tales of his childhood either made her feel remorse that he hadn't had a normal life, or mourn the missing parental figure that had guided him through it. Instead, Marinette breathed through her nose in amusement, saying, “You found the perfect job, remember?”

“Oh, yes.” Adrien laughed, making her feeling relieved that they weren't dwelling on the negative emotions. “And I found the perfect person, too.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. “That's borderline grossly sweet,” the female replied, scrunching her facial features together in distaste. “You're not trying to kill me in other ways, are you?”

His response was to ruffle her hair with fondness, coaxing the dark strands from her ponytail from the playful roughness. Marinette huffed, batting his chest lightly in protest to his actions—it only made him laugh more, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to pull her into a warm and tight embrace that was filled with comfort and acceptance.

There was no denying that he was the kind of person that preferred to be in contact with others, subconsciously reaching for her hand while they spoke, or cuddling when their attention was directed elsewhere. It was an endearing trait that she wasn't going to comment on in fear of making him self-conscious.

They'd moved onto vampire films by the time they'd been dating for four months. His attention on the books had dwindled, the blond claiming the plot lines and the responses were wholly too similar, sometimes too focused on the plot to fully recognise that the vampire was different and shouldn't be romanticised, and she listened through his rants with a small smile, allowing him to let out his feelings without questioning them too much.

“Weren't you trying to convince me you're dangerous before?” Marinette questioned, restrained laughter clear in her voice as she bit into her lower lip. “A bit hypocritical of you, Adrien.”

He shot her an unamused look. “I'm not a work of fiction.”

“Sure.” She raised her eyebrows. “Want to tell me how you'd hurt me unlike anyone else would? From what you've said, you're pretty much human with a little extra.”

Flicking her shoulder gently, the blond's hand retreated as he crossed his arms stubbornly. “I could—”

“Bite me?” Marinette supplied, wide smile reaching her cerulean eyes. “My, that's terrifying. A teething toddler would do the same, so why don't you try something else?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, eyes flickering between hers before focusing on one as he stayed silent.

It was the answer she was looking for, and the fact that she was getting her own way caused her expression to come across smug as she shuffled closer, coaxing his crossed arms apart to loop her own around one. “That's all you have, isn't it?” she questioned rhetorically, tilting her head slightly as she looked into her uncertain eyes. “You can't smell me more than anyone else—you're not going to go into a frenzy from smelling blood because you _can't_. There's no misguided bloodlust that'll cause you to go crazy if I get a tiny cut, and you can't hear my heart unless you're against my chest.”

“You're stating the obvious,” he grouched.

“Not really,” she replied, cheekily pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “These are things that _I_ wasn't certain of in the beginning. Those small worries were only there because you were so adamant that you're not... _right_.”

It was then that his expression flickered, torn between happiness and surprise at her reactions. “Marinette,” he breathed quietly, looking at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Why—”

Why was she okay with him? “There's _nothing_ about you to be afraid of,” the dark-haired female confessed firmly, free hand reaching up to gently cup his cheek in a tender movement. “I want you to know that you're wonderful, okay? I regret nothing from being close to you—I do not fear you, Adrien. No one should.”

They stared at each other, Marinette's determined expression unwavering as they kept eye contact. His golden-stained lashes created continuous shadows as he blinked rapidly, eyes becoming shinier and breaths coming quicker as he tried to get his feelings under control. With a warm smile, Marinette moved her hand from his jaw, trailing it through his hair in a gentle gesture that she knew he was fond of.

“I love you, you harmless idiot,” she whispered softly, feeling her own eyes become hot as he shakily smiled right back. “If you say anything about not deserving me, I will bite _you_.”

Laughing with a breathy voice, Adrien swiped at his damp eyes, dimples on display from his smile. Clasping his hand upon hers within the strands of golden hair, he murmured, “How about you put that film on so I can kiss you senseless through the opening credits?”

She didn't even blink. “And the end ones, too?”

“Of course,” he replied, knitting their fingers together. “It would be unfair to only do it once.”

They made it through a plethora of films, some with high ratings that had her laughing from the blood or attacks while the blond looked at her with raised eyebrows, with good humour throughout. Marinette sometimes remarked that a certain attribute would be amusing for him to have, especially amused by the jutted out lower lip he pulled at times. Their stolen kisses through the daytime became heated in the evening, dragged out to enjoy each other's bodies as she savoured their budding relationship; every intimate caress, the soft feeling of his hands stroking her in an innocent or a teasing fashion that drove her wild—all of his movements and intentions were filled with good intentions and dwindling cautiousness as he became less nervous.

It didn't stop her rapidly beating heart when they were intimate, nor the bubbling nervousness when he smiled brightly her way that had her thinking that she was lucky at all to have him.

Nino and Alya often invited them round to their house every few weeks, happily catering to Adrien's diet (meaning they didn't question his allergies or force him to try the dishes that were made), making the blond feel welcome and wholly happy with the newfound friends that he was still perplexed that he'd managed to find at all. Although there were a few mentions of inviting others to bond with them on the occasional gatherings, none of them ever fulfilled their musings and kept it between the four of them.

Nino was happy to talk about his job; he'd been promoted to a radio host at a stable time in the afternoon, so he didn't have to be up in the late hours of the evenings any more. Sometimes Marinette selected his station no the radio when she was at Adrien's home, listening to the bad jokes of their friend was they spent their time together.

Much the same, Alya had surpassed her chatty co-workers that originally grated on her nerves, and she was pleased with her position enough to relax and not have to snoop for information in awkward ways that her had cheeks burning when she told the tales of her strange questions that she had to ask.

As much as Adrien was a friend of Nino's, it was nice to see him interacting successfully with Alya; he wasn't as stiff or uncomfortable as he'd been in the beginning, nor would he edge away from her when they were seated beside each other on the sofa at times. From a distance, there wasn't much that could give him away; the blond-haired male simply appeared to be awkward and avoided eating in front of others (from what was rumoured to be anxiety).

Eventually, he was comfortable enough to talk to Mireille when she wasn't hyperactively talking to others. Their co-worker calmed down considerably when they were one-on-one, when Marinette was busy readying herself in a changing room and could only just hear their conversations on the outside of the door. She hovered inside, taking longer than necessary to allow them to talk to themselves, a fond smile on her lips as she shuffled around.

Marinette caught sight of him during her shift. He was by the mirrors, adjusting the cape around his shoulders before realising she was in the doorway. Knowing that there weren't any guests trailing through at that moment, she raised a hand and waved, smile stretching across her lips as he returned the gesture before ushering her away silently, the fond expression on his face showing his appreciation of the silent communication.

Shooting him a rude gesture with her hand, the dark-haired female had intended to walk away with dignity. Her eyes had been focused on his face, too preoccupied to realise her shoulder had been brushing against the doorway. Her clothed shoulder connected with the wall as she turned, throwing her off balance so she stumbled to the floor; thankfully, she caught herself before there was any damage more than her embarrassment.

He was beside her in a moment, offering a hand to pull her up from the cold spot on the floor with his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

Allowing him to pull her up, Marinette brushed her clothing before displaying the palms of her hands, proving she was fine with a small smile. “No blood or anything,” she promised, wiggling her fingers. “I'm sure my knees are fine, too.” If there was a stain on her outfit, it wouldn't be too hard to replicate instead of attempting to get the scarlet out of the white material.

“Am I distracting you?” Adrien questioned, a lopsided smile on his lips.

Narrowing her eyes, Marinette pulled a sour face as her non-verbal reply.

He laughed, reaching up to ruffle her already tangled hair with fondness. “I'm glad,” he murmured softly, hot breath fanning across her face as he leaned down, making it so they were almost the same height. “You've been distracting me a lot, too.”

“Not enough to fall over,” she replied dryly.

His lips were soft as he kissed her quickly; a blink and miss it type of situation before he pulled back with his dimples showing. “Maybe not while you're looking,” the blond said, winking. “Now get back to work. I'm pretty sure there'll be some unsuspecting children in here soon, aren't they some your favourites?”

“I prefer glowering at the fans that come in to see you,” Marinette corrected, raising an eyebrow. “Children can scream pretty loud, though.”

“If I said I'd like to make you scream later, would you hurt me?” he asked cheekily, the smile on his face stretching and showing he knew he was pushing the limits.

Discreetly, Marinette smiled sweetly, her foot shuffling to hover above his without catching notice. “You sure know how to woo me,” she proclaimed, cerulean eyes narrowing. “Would you like to see if I can make you scream, too?”

He blinked. “You—”

There wasn't a chance to finish his sentence as she pressed down, not enough to injure him or bruise him in the long run, but the sudden pressure on his toes caused him to tense and gasp in surprise, looking at her with wide evergreen-coloured eyes and a slightly open mouth, an expression that didn't accentuate his attractive features.

“Close enough.” She grinned. “As you said, it's time to get back to work.” With that said, she saluted mockingly before walking away, his laugh audible as she left.

-x-

His popularity continued to grow on the internet. After working at the amusement park for seventeen months, a surprise came over their lunch break one afternoon. Marinette ate her food as he had a meeting with higher-ups, though she wasn't worried of the possibility of him being fired; Adrien was too _good_. He followed the rules, didn't touch the guests without permission, and certainly hadn't had any fights with their co-workers that warranted the interference of a higher-up to sort out.

When they were settled in his house for the evening, he came out with it. Adrien's voice was confused, eyebrows furrowed, looking at her as though she was the one it had happened to, as he said, “Some magazine wants me to model for them.”

She blinked, surprise etched across her expression (though not as baffled as he). “Really? Did they say what for?”

“I'm not really sure,” he replied, leaning back against the cushions. “I made sure it wasn't naked or only underwear before they started talking; it was a load of jargon that I couldn't focus on. They gave me a card to contact them with.”

Trying to deduce his expression, Marinette noticed that he didn't seem completely against it—his fears had been voiced straight away when he'd asked them to specific what they wanted him to wear, and from the fact that he was bringing it up at all without making self-conscious comments made it clear that he wasn't rejecting it instantly.

There wasn't a reason not to. When Marinette voiced her opinion, stating that he was able to control himself well and it wasn't as though he'd attack a member of staff and hurt them in the process. It took a week or so to convince him that it was fine—it would broaden his career choices if it was successful, too, which would be a boon in giving him alternative routes in his life. Marinette pointed out that there were already pictures of him circulating the internet—the very reason that they had contacted him, realising his popularity despite being a simple employee at a amusement park—which resulted in him, somehow, begrudgingly agreeing that she was right.

It started off small.

He was featured in a cheap magazine first, modelling an outfit that a celebrity had been seen wearing; it took up barely a portion of the page, other models doing much the same within the spread. Adrien covered his face in embarrassment when she cut out the picture, proudly creating a scrapbook in a new sketchbook that she'd bought for the occasion. She included the date of the release, a small quote of how he felt about the clothing, which turned out to be, “ _The sweater felt like a cat's tongue. It was awful._ ”

A week after, he was contacted again—this time they were planning for two photographs with a mix-and-match attire that was in an upcoming fashion line. Adrien was baffled that they were wanting him at all, but from the roll of Marinette's eyes and the reassurance that it wasn't a pity call that they were after him, he visited a studio on his day off.

Marinette had slept over the night before, having packed some of her designs from knowing she'd be alone for a period of time. When he returned some hours later, with her not realising that time had passed as music blared in her earphones as she worked, Marinette almost pricked her finger with a needle when he tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

“You're back.” She grinned, shuffling the equipment back onto the empty dining table. “How did it go?”

Shrugging his shoulders, the rustling of plastic caught her attention. Peering down at the bag he was clutching, Adrien caught her gaze and explained, “They gave me some food to go since I said I wasn't hungry. I thought you'd appreciate it more than me.”

Surprised at the gesture, Marinette accepted the offering. “That's sweet of you.”

The guest count came and went. Their section won the count for a second time, earning a raise in their pay that made Marinette cheer in joy over. They both declined to attend the dinner, choosing to spend the time together instead since they weren't particularly close with their co-workers enough to want to attend. The scrapbook had two cut-outs added from his last job, which she happily pointed out that he had a perfect brooding expression in one picture that would surely be popular, only to cause him to mumble in embarrassment that that wasn't the type of support he was looking for.

Marinette had arrived at her apartment building one evening after work, the decided day to spend time apart for her to work on her site without being distracted by him, when she noticed a large addition to the building's noticeboard past the entrance.

“Oh, no,” she murmured, running her fingers through her dark hair as she climbed the stairs. The building was shutting down, so she had to look elsewhere for a place to live that was nearby as she didn't own transport other than a bicycle that had a broken chain. As long as it wasn't a long distance she didn't mind, but travelling for over an hour in the worst case scenario to spend time with Adrien wasn't going to be enjoyable in the long run.

When she voiced her complaints to the blond the next day, as they were lounging around in her apartment and discussing her options, he merely blinked and asked, “Why don't you just move in with me, then?”

She wondered whether she heard him right the first time. “What—”

“Before you go off on a make-shift speech stating that you can take care of yourself and all that,” Adrien interrupted, dimples on display as he smiled in a charming way. “I'm completely serious. You practically live there as it is.”

“That's a lie,” Marinette replied, crossing her arms stubbornly.

He laughed, placing a warm hang onto the flesh of her thigh, squeezing gently. “You hate hearing every sound your neighbours make, Marinette. If it makes you feel better you can pick how to pay or something—I'd be happy to have company, and I'm pretty sure you don't think of the idea as repulsive.”

Eyeing him uncertainty, it didn't take long to deduce that he was serious. She mulled over the idea silently, trying to picture the two of them living together without dubbing it as a fantasy and discarding the thoughts immediately. There was the issue that two rooms in his house were untouched—she'd peered within at times, noting they were what appeared to be a study and previously his parents' bedrooms—and she didn't feel comfortable moving in if there were two places off limits.

After her first visit, he had cleaned up. The garden wasn't the pristine condition that it had surely been all those years ago—weeds and overgrown plants everywhere—but it was watered and not a complete eyesore by featuring dead flowers, while the inside was dusted and taken care of. Adrien had taken to storing different drinks and snacks for her, which made her smile brightly when she came across them accidentally.

With the thoughts of his sweet gestures in mind, Marinette eventually replied, “...I'll agree as long as you promise not to turn off the alarm in the mornings.”

His lips twitched from trying not to laugh. “I'm not too sure if I can promise you anything.”

“No sabotaging sleep by touching my breasts when I'm about to fall asleep, too,” she continued, narrowed eyes looking at him suspiciously. “Someone has to be the responsible one in this relationship.”

“I—well.” Adrien cleared his throat, fighting a smile. “I _am_ offering you a house here, doesn't that make me the adult?”

She dryly replied, “That makes you irresponsibly rich, actually.”

“How rude.” He sniffed dramatically, withdrawing his hand and leaving a patch of suddenly chilled skin on her thigh. “I should've asked for tips on how to ask you to move in romantically. I'm sure you wouldn't try to set up these restrictions if I did that.”

“Sure,” Marinette laughed out, voice breathy. “I think you should meet my parents before we do this, though.”

“...Shoot,” he muttered. “I knew I forgot something.”

-x-

The following week, Marinette booked the Friday off from work, and the two of them travelled to her parents' home, greeted by the the sweet waft of scents coming from the front door of their pâtisserie. Adrien was worried, clutching their luggage too tightly in his hands after they decided to stay the night in her old bedroom—she assured him the bed was large enough for the both of them, even if it meant they'd have their limbs intertwined because of it—and the nerves were obvious when he was greeted by the happy sight of her parents.

They liked him, thankfully; her broad-shouldered father with his bright cerulean eyes, where she inherited them from, placed a large hand on Adrien's shoulder and thanked him for making her happy, while her cheerful mother doted on him, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind her ears as she did so. They'd heard a lot about him from their phone call (which only mentioned him after they've became somewhat friends), therefore they knew beforehand about his allergies.

Their caring attitudes lead to them happily presenting a dish for dinner that had been specifically made for him with his needs in mind, and Marinette only just managed to cover her horrified expression when she saw Adrien pick up the cutlery and begin to prod the food. She tried to discreetly kick him under the table, which resulted in her hitting her father instead and having to make an excuse, which meant she was only able to swallow audibly as the blond swallowed him first bite.

“This tastes wonderful,” he complimented, licking his lips with a small smile. “Thank you so much.”

After their dinner, Marinette distracted her parents while he vomited in the only bathroom.

By the time they left the following evening, she was sure her absent grandparents would be informed about her boyfriend, along with her parents' closest friends so they could croon about how well their daughter was doing. It was a relief that they approved of him, however; there had been a few worries running through her mind that they might've thought it was too soon to move in together, especially since they'd been dating for seven months, yet they were fully supportive and approved of Marinette leaving her apartment (which they never liked the location of in this first place).

It took a month to sort everything out. Nino, on his free time from work, helped her move her belongings into her new home. Adrien was full of wide smiles and dimples, occasionally tripping over as they moved the boxes and other possessions. Marinette had parted with her self-built desk, which included a few screws that were loose that she caught her knees on at times, from the appeal of him offering her a newly bought one instead.

Nino left them with a knowing smirk and a wink, which causing her to roll her eyes fondly. Wiping the damp hairs from her forehead, Marinette settled down on the sofa for a short break, well aware that there were still boxes to distribute the belongings from and decide where they belonged.

“I suppose it's time for me to give you this,” Adrien started, picking up something that made a noise within a porcelain bowl that usually contained pot-pourri. Twirling the object in his hands, he sat down beside her with a wide smile. “Keys to the house, my love.”

She blinked. “Right. I forgot I needed those.”

The keys were added to her own that had been swamped with different trinkets and silly items that she'd grown fond of over the years. Adrien had included a small plastic cat with blushing cheeks along with the keys, and she made the appropriate reaction to seeing it for the first time—more awed with the addition rather than the keys themselves.

As it turned out, he'd changed the house in preparation for her moving in. Marinette's mouth had opened and closed dumbly, no noise escaping, as he opened the door to what she knew to be the study that his parents had used. The paint and the decorations were still the same. The books on the elegant bookcase had been removed, the stacks of papers gone to leave the desk—which she knew to new, since the old one had scratches and tarnished paint—neat and clean. There was additional table against the wall which was clearly for her work, which made her chest feel warm from knowing how much thought had gone into the room.

Watching her reaction, Adrien helpfully pointed out, “The other bedroom has been re-done so it's ready for guests, if your parents ever want to stay over.”

It was another gesture that made her want to kiss him senseless. She settled for embracing him tightly, hiding her flaming face in the crook of his neck. “I love you,” she murmured, voice breathier than she would've liked. “You didn't need to do any of this.”

“I was hoping my good intentions would help bribe you in the long run,” he admitted, and she could tell he was smiling from his tone.

She hummed. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Adrien continued, bobbing his head in a nod, and she could feel his body move as he did so. “Please keep those embarrassing pictures of me in your scrapbook and not anywhere else in the house.”

Of course. Marinette laughed heartily, the sound muffled slightly from her position. With a light bite to his neck, she replied, “You can try and stop me. I'll place framed pictures around the house without you knowing.”

“I don't work one of the days you do,” he pointed out, voice shaking from restrained laughter. “I'll scour the house for anything inappropriate.”

“There goes the lube, then.”

He flicked her lightly on the shoulder. “Not that kind of inappropriate.”

As promised—well, she'd said it as a joke before deciding she liked the idea—Marinette made copies of the cut-outs, happily laminating them so they could be hidden within the pages of books he sometimes went through, between the cases underneath the television, or underneath his pillow when she was particularly happy with the shot. Adrien blushed the first few times, especially when the image involved him pulling a not-so-neutral expression that had him embarrassed to begin with. Sometimes she placed a picture within one of his already filled photographs, cackling happily when he caught sight of them and made a noise of displeasure.

It was made better by the sudden boost of his popularity. Much like with the amusement park, people were fond of his looks within the magazines. He was hired to model more often, sometimes throughout the whole weekend and annihilating any plans they had to spend the days together outside of their outlandish costumes.

“I keep having to explain that my diet isn't from choice whenever someone asks how I keep my figure,” Adrien explained grumpily, crossing his arms on his chest. “What am I supposed to say when they want tips? They think I'm fussy and require pampering, and it's _frustrating_.”

Lips curled into a smile, Marinette asked, “Do they think you're a spoiled child or something?”

“ _Yes_!” His hands emphasised his words and irritation. “Whenever they munch on their leaves, their judging eyes are always directed at me as they whisper. Maybe I should just eat with them and vomit to get the gossip to stop.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste from the idea. He had braved consuming food once in their relationship, and she was going to get him to avoid doing it again unless it was something important. The judging looks from other models weren't going to cause him to harm himself. “They're just looking for something to bitch about—ignore them. Don't be like Alya and purposely spill your drink on their papers.”

“...It's a tempting idea.”

She narrowed her eyes, looking at him with an unimpressed expression. “ _Don't_.”

Childishly, he stuck out his tongue.

The gossiping models were soon forgotten as they weren't involved in his next jobs. The scrapbook was steadily filling up over the months—photographs still hidden around the house to hear him groan so she could cackle like a cartoon villain—and he appeared in a few commercials that aired on the television. He wasn't the main focus of them, mostly a background presence, yet she was still proud.

When Adrien was first featured on an advertisement that had posters of him appearing around the city, Nino was the one to help boost his popularity. To Adrien's embarrassment, Nino mentioned him during his radio show, stating how happy he was to see his friend's face when he came into work that morning, and it caused a ripple effect. There was a call that Nino answered that asked whether his friend was a full-time model, and from there it was pointed out that he was the popular vampire at the amusement park that had websites dedicated to him at work.

Nino had wrapped his arm around the blond's shoulders with a smug smile on his face, amused greatly from the embarrassment posture of his friend.

“I can't bring myself to hate you,” Adrien grouched, lower lip jutting out dramatically. “Alya's my favourite friend now. You've been replaced.”

“I could always write an article about you,” the red-head quipped from her position in the kitchen, not looking over her shoulder to see reaction. “There's bound to be some gossip when you get more publicity—I can sway my boss and say I know you personally to get permission to be the writer.”

When Adrien looked to her for help, Marinette held up her hands in a defensive action, raising her eyebrows as she said, “Don't look at me. I haven't got some cool job to get you noticed.”

“People buy your stuff, Marinette,” Alya pointed out beside her, bumping their hips lightly together. “You could sell t-shirts with his face on then, or stitch his darkest secrets into them. Each of us can torment him in our own ways.”

“Forget it!” Adrien exclaimed loudly, sounding exasperated. “I have _no_ friends.”

The first article about him wasn't years off. Instead, it appeared a month after Nino's casual mention of him on the radio. It wasn't front page—he wasn't considered a celebrity, just an upcoming model that was rising in popularity—and it was only through a website that was dedicated to him that she found out about it at all. Marinette rushed off to the nearest store, selecting the magazine and bringing it home to read with him the first time.

Adrien's face was incredulous when he saw the picture of him they'd used; it wasn't from a shoot, which would've been preferable. It was him after work at the amusement park, dressed in casual clothing with red-stained lips and his arm wrapped around Marinette (her face was covered by her hair being moved by the wind).

“Hey, at least I'm with you, eh?” the dark-haired female tried to say without laughing, covering her mouth with a hand to stifle the noise.

He was glaring at the opened page. “This is _ridiculous_.”

It wasn't even a quarter of the page—other than the photograph, it explained that the face that was seen around town was really a popular employee at an amusement park, confirming Nino's comment, and that he was speculated to be off-limits because of his relationship with his co-worker.

“Well, they're not wrong,” Marinette pointed out, grinning when he looked up to glare at her instead. “It's the closest they'll probably come to the truth in the future. Before you ask, yes, I'm cutting this picture out. I don't have any candid shots of you yet.”

“You're in it, too,” he reminded her.

Collecting the magazine before he could hide it, Marinette held it to her chest with a victorious expression. “I'll cut myself out if I have to. This is a scrapbook of your work—and a little side section from gossip articles now, apparently.”

“Don't put it underneath my pillow, please.”

“Of course not.” She blinked. “I'm classier than that—I'll hide it under the toilet seat.”

-x-

They were still clinical about the blood. Adrien always seemed uncertain as it was drawn, still gave her the chance to back out and deny the permission she'd given him previously. They'd stuck to the routine for months with him drinking the allotted amount when she wasn't looking, making sure that she never saw him that way.

“I've seen you with bright red lipstick on, Adrien,” she pointed out when they were settled on their bed together. “How much worse can it be?”

The childish memorabilia that used to be in his bedroom had disappeared, stored away in the loft despite her insistence that they were fine to stay. He'd readily replaced the sheets and the duvet cover, choosing a design that they both appreciated rather than the neutral design that he had before. There seemed to be the urge for him to replace a lot of what was left behind, wanting to make the house their own rather than what it used to be. Marinette never pushed him to talk about it; instead, she hovered nearby if he needed the support, and hugged him tightly when it was necessary (which in her opinion was quite often).

There were still trinkets in the living room that his mother had picked out, the odd blanket that he sometimes pulled out when it was cold, and plates and bowls that didn't match in design, but were somewhat colour-coordinated and charming.

“I don't want you to see me like that,” the male replied quietly, voice barely audible. His hands were clasped together, fingers fiddling from what she presumed to be nervousness. “I don't want to put you in that position.”

“Adrien,” she called, voice firm and steady as she shuffled closer to him. “It's not like you're drinking straight from the vein, okay? You don't have to hide around me.”

He lips were pressed together in a line.

Seeing that that line of reasoning wasn't going to work, she gnawed briefly on her lower lip, considering her options. “I stayed with you even when you were awkwardly stalking people, remember?”

The police hadn't investigated further as there hadn't been any attacks. The reports had dwindled, since he wasn't prowling while covered in self-loathing any longer, and therefore they had lost interest in the case. There were a few mentions in the local newspaper, predictions that the culprit had approached the wrong person and therefore gotten themselves injured, making them second guess their choices and causing them to no longer attempt the followings.

“I never followed _you_ ,” he pointed out.

“Let me rephrase,” Marinette started, rolling her eyes at his tone. “I'm here even though you pretty much considered becoming a murderer.”

“ _I—_ ”

To get him to be quiet, she sat up and hit him gently with a pillow. Her eyes were narrowed as she asked, “Will you allow me to finish?”

The raised pillow caused him to shut his mouth.

“Excellent.” Marinette grinned, placing the pillow back in place and lying down on the mattress once more. “Even if you were just going to knock someone out and steal a bit of blood—I suppose that's how you could get away with not being a murderer—I'm here as the answer to all your problems, am I not?”

He looked disgruntled, and she assumed it was how she worded it that had caused him to grimace. “Marinette...”

“I know I'm not here as a blood supplier,” she prattled on, waving a hand dismissively at the idea. “You're not evil enough to pull something like that off. I'm pretty sure you'd cry at the thought of having anyone as a prisoner.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “You're making me out to be an awful villain.”

“You did that to yourself before,” the female pointed out with a roll of her cerulean eyes. “I love you despite your poor choices, okay? As long as our relationship still features consent, I have no problems with what— _who—_ you are. You don't have to run off and hide away whenever you drink. Unless you, _well—_ you're not doing some kind of ritual before you're having the blood, right?”

“What would I even do?” he questioned incredulously. “I'm not lighting candles and sitting in the dark. I think that would be hard to hide from you.”

The laugh she produced from his response wasn't muffled. It was loud, abrupt, and startled her from the sudden image she'd concocted of him worshipping in the dimly lit night. “That's a relief to hear,” she wheezed through her guffaws, warmth blossoming upon her face from the sudden bubbling happiness. “You're quite adorable when you get past your self-loathing, you know.”

His lips twitched. “I can't even tell if that's supposed to be a compliment.”

“Only the best for you, darling.” She grinned. “And a thought just struck me—maybe you bought some of those fancy electronic candles that have bulbs on the inside, so there's no need to light the wick.”

The only word to describe his expression was fond—he was looking at her with a soft smile, indentations clear on his cheeks that had gained colour from the sun, with his eyes almost half-lidded. “I don't think that would satisfy the conditions of a demonic ritual, Marinette.” His voice was steady and normal, as though they were talking about the weather. “I'm sure you'll research it in the future and get back to me with the details, though.”

“...You've been aware of my evil doings for all this time?” Marinette asked, a lopsided grin across her lips.

The blond leaned across to place a teasing kiss on the corner of her mouth, brushing against her lips before applying the pressure to the skin beside. She could feel the warmth of his breath as he murmured, “Your worst doing is forgetting your mugs around the house—filled ones, at that.”

She huffed in agreement. “They're quite hard to remember.”

Chuckling in response, Adrien shuffled upon the bed, leg brushing against hers from the closeness, as he pushed the dark strands of hair away to expose the pale skin of her neck. He applied feather-light kisses to the flesh of her neck, causing shivers of pleasure to travel through her, a bubble of warmth circling within her abdomen. A hand ventured beneath the material of her shirt, brushing against her skin there with lightly applied nails that he _knew_ she liked the feeling of.

Closing her eyes, Marinette took in a deep breath from the shift of the atmosphere. His ministrations were pleasing and welcome; their intimate moments were heated and filled with passion that hadn't been present in her teenaged relationships. As his teeth nipped her neck, causing her breathing to hitch audibly—which had been his intention, as she could feel the smug smile—Marinette made her mind up and grasped at his wandering hand when he smoothed the bitten flesh with a swipe of his tongue.

Pushing him away gently, there wasn't a flash of uncertainty or a worry of rejection within his expression. Adrien was looking at her with raised eyebrows, a smile stretched across his lips that were redder than they had been previously.

Sitting up, Marinette tugged at the material of her shirt, throwing it onto the floor and feeling a chill from her exposed flesh. With a wink that caused him to laugh, rather than be surprised from her confidence, she shuffled out of her remaining clothing as he did the same beside her, no hesitation in his movements or shyness that had been there in the beginning. Perhaps it was the side-job of modelling that had made him more comfortable with undressing in front of others—the first time he'd removed his shirt in front of her, the tips of his ears had reddened in embarrassment.

Soon they were intertwined, Adrien resting a hand beside her on the mattress to balance as they kissed, warm breaths mingling together as his free hand explored. Sighing happily into him, Marinette shifted, allowing him to grasp at her backside as she played with the golden strands of his hair fondly. Tugging as she opened her mouth, allowing further access, that felt wholly pleasant and an experience that she appreciated each other, her breaths became ragged as his clothed arousal pressed against hers. The contact was soft, barely there, yet enough to cause slight friction before his hips moved further, purposely diverting her attention, especially when his hand squeezed cheekily.

Parting their lips, breaths louder and equally puffing against each other's faces, Marinette narrowed her eyes suspiciously when she noticed the lopsided grin across his lips.

“What—”

The hand on her backside slipped, her blinking as he looked her in the eyes, fingertips trailing across the sensitive flesh that was hidden by the undergarment. That was the reason to his smile, then, she realised, not commenting that he was in much the same way. Hooking his fingers around the top of the material, Marinette didn't protest as the underwear as tossed aside, nor when he did much the same to her brassiere.

Before he could smother her breasts with attention, and peppered kisses that caused the nubs to harden from something other than the cold, she returned the favour by tugging at his waistband with a determined expression. He didn't protest, simply hummed in understanding and allowed her to do as she pleased.

And so, she did. Marinette adjusted their position, happily pushing him down so he was against the mattress, her hovering above with a smile, satisfied with his compliance.

Wetting her lips, the dark haired female shuffled down, settling beside one of his thighs, and tentatively grasped his arousal. There was a hitch of his breath, barely audible, as she leaned down to kiss the tip in appreciation, before she wrapped her lips around his warmth, sucking lightly to create friction that had her heart pounding in her chest from knowing his reaction. There were hushed moans escaping his lips when she moved her head, ragged breaths when she pulled back to catch her own, therefore blowing cool air against his damp skin that caused his member to twitch encouragingly in reaction.

His noises paired with the fact that she knew that he enjoyed her actions—even when she had been terribly clumsy and had grazed her teeth along the skin of his arousal in the beginning—had the warmth of her abdomen bubbling, connecting with the pulse between her legs. It was frantic, demanding; wanting the attention that was bestowed upon him at that moment, though she knew that it wouldn't be for too long. Despite her best efforts, Adrien was adamant that no matter how much he enjoyed it, he didn't want her to be in pain from the stiffness of her jaw (though he did blush as he proclaimed that).

Her movements were confident, happy to please him as he kissed the side of his member once more in a parting gesture before she pulled back, tucking stray hairs behind her ears with a self-satisfied smile from seeing his flushed face.

“You didn't have to,” he murmured lowly, clearing his throat afterwards.

Reaching across to peck his warm cheek, Marinette assured him, “I wanted to.”

“Trying to spoil me?”

Childishly, she stuck her tongue out, causing him to chuckle in response.

He wrapped his arms around her torso for an embrace, slightly damp skin pressing against each other with her breasts bunched against his chest, making it clear he was in no hurry to continue their ministrations. Happy with the embrace, feeling their breaths that were starting to even out and become quieter, she closed her eyes in content.

“We can sleep, if you want to,” the blond offered, interrupting the gentle sounds of their breathing.

She blinked. “I think that would be awfully rude to do.”

“It's not that bad,” he replied, smile clear in his voice. “We're not doing anything right now, so I'm not offended.”

Shifting in his arms, Marinette leaned back to stare at him with narrowed eyes. “That makes it sound like I do that often.”

“Well, once is more than enough.” Titling his head with a smug smile, Adrien continued, “You were on cold medicine, so I suppose my ego is still intact since it wasn't my fault.”

“Adrien,” she began, reaching a hand up to trail through his hair gently. “Be quiet, please.”

When he started to reply, she pressed their lips together once more, boldly using her tongue without invitation. Their teeth didn't brush against each other's from clumsiness any more, nor was she surprised from his encouraging reaction of pulling her closer, cradling her neck with soft fingers to try and make the position comfortable. The pulse between her legs was loud and demanding still, matching the one within her head that was almost drowning out her ragged breaths between applying pressure to his lips, and as his free hand skimmed along her sensitive flesh, she shivered.

Breaking apart with what could only be described as a gasp, it became clear that his fingertips were teasing, never fully committing; rather, he was trailing across her skin on purposely, revelling in the subtle reactions that she had. Sat upon his thighs, Marinette shifted in frustration, resting her head upon his bare shoulder, the skin there tempting to mark despite how he despised having to cover the blemishes in make-up for his job.

His fingertips ran across her protrusion in a fleeting movement, there for barely a second but enough for her to tense up slightly in surprise. Before she had time to complain about his teasing, a digit gently pushed, reaching within in her with slow movements that he knew she appreciated. Marinette swallowed, readily allowing the steady rhythm of his finger before she shifting her hips in a hope for more friction. She was granted with another digit joining, her body attempting to move in unison to meet the slightly curled fingers within her that were causing her heart to beat rapidly, the gentle throbbing of being stretched welcoming the upcoming activity.

Her breaths were loud, warmth against her face as they splashed onto his neck, as Adrien's thumb searched for her protrusion, creating a circular motion that had her toes curling in pleasure as his fingertips within brushed against a bundle of nerves that had her moaning softly. The sensations were there for a few moments before he withdrew, and she groaned quietly in disapproval from the sudden change.

“Tease,” she murmured.

Cracking her eyes open and blinking at the brightness, she saw that his smile was wide with dimples in tow. “I'm only returning the favour.”

The colour on his cheeks surely matched hers. There was a sheen of sweat across his forehead, which had the golden strands pushed aside carelessly. She tucked the stray strands of hair behind her ears once more, reaching to the bedside table purposely, attempting to reach the drawer without having to move from her position.

“I have longer arms than you,” Adrien pointed out, swatting her extended arm in disapproval and knocking her out of the way for him to fetch the foil item she'd been looking for.

Marinette huffed as it crinkled audibly. “Show off.”

“I don't think this is appropriate pillow talk,” the blond said, lips twitching from trying not to smile. “Shame on you, Marinette.”

“Oh, please.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, drawing attention to them rather than looking stern. “If I started to talk dirty to you, I'm pretty sure you'd implode.”

He blinked. “Among others things.”

A laugh slipped out despite her protests. “You're ridiculous, did you know that?” she murmured, shifting upon his lap once more to make sure her legs wouldn't begin to tingle.

Adrien smiled, taking the comment as a compliment, and slipped a hand into the dark strands of her hair by the nape of her neck, effectively pulling her closer to kiss her once more. She complied, happily accepting the offered affectionate as she used her hands to steady herself, shuffling closer as she grasped his member, guiding his arousal towards her with somewhat clumsy movements as he applied pressure to her lips.

As his tip pressed against her entrance, her hitched breath was muffled by their mouths as she pressed down upon his slick erection, welcoming the slight strain from the intrusion.

He didn't pressure her to continue. Their kiss could have been considered lazy—she preferred slow and intimate—and the only indication that he was adjusting like her was from the tightened grip on her hair. With confidence, she settled herself down, fingernails creating small indents on his thighs from her reaction. She flexed her fingers, indenting not to bruise him in such an intimate way, and flashed him a wide smile when their eyes met.

He returned it happily.

With her pulse still thundering, throbbing for the need of attention between her legs which were situated on either side of his thighs, effectively keeping her from falling forward onto his chest more so than she already was. Marinette welcomed the addition of his hands on her hips, the touch igniting the pleasure bubbling within her. With the added sensations, she lifted herself up with a deep breath, breaking away from his lips as she repositioned herself to settle back down.

The look of him had her cheeks burning from a mixture of passion and endearment; his face was splashed with colour, golden-stained eyelashes creating shadows upon his cheeks that were healthy and suited him well, and seeing the reddened lips—that weren't the result of make-up—that were also slightly swollen, spurred on her movements.

A mixture of their heavy breaths filled the room, the sound of their slick flesh coming into contact as she closed her eyes, nails digging into his skin as they moved. He was shifting his hips to meet her somewhat erratic pace, allowing her to choose the speed rather than taking control of the situation—it was another quality she liked about him.

She moaned his name.

His pelvis rubbed against her protrusion when she pushed down fully, and the tingling sensations were building up, the heat within her becoming demanding and needy. The grip of her hips became tighter as her movements became lazier, rolling her body forwards with the intention of her sensitive parts meeting his skin for extra pleasure.

The noises that escaped him spurred her on, and soon nonsense was leaving her mouth as she scrunched her cerulean eyes shut, the spiralling sensations within her hitting the brink of her control. Her legs convulsed slightly, pressing tighter around his thighs as her breaths came out as a pant.

Tightening around him spurred his reaction, it seemed. Marinette opened her eyes, brushing the damp hair away from her face once more, as he shuddered beneath her. As much as she wanted to lean forward to pepper his jawline with appreciate kisses, she chose instead to regain her breath, allowing him adequate time to do the same, too.

He winced as she clambered off of him, settling down on the mattress on her back and sighing in relief. Other than the quiet curse that left his lips as he cleaned up, it was quiet. Adrien joined her on the pillows, that weren't as full as they had been before, and placed a warm arm lightly across her side.

“I really love you, Marinette,” he murmured, clearing his throat afterwards.

Opening her eyes, she replied, “I should hope so. I don't do this with just anyone.”

“That's reassuring. I'm glad we cleared that up after dating for ten months.”

Shuffling closer, she grumbled, “Be quiet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com/) (っ˘ω˘ς )❤


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